


Homestead

by mobsune



Category: Original Work
Genre: Complete, Cults, Depression, Drug Use, Falling In Love, First Time, Hurt/Comfort, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Religion, Romance, Self-Harm, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-26
Updated: 2020-08-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:14:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 27
Words: 70,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26114767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mobsune/pseuds/mobsune
Summary: A religious boy involved in a cult meets the love of his life just before the end of times.
Relationships: Original Male Character/Original Male Character, Reuben Hill/Elias Flood
Comments: 17
Kudos: 19





	1. Chapter 1

His father’s voice was something typical of a leader—clear, booming, charismatic—but there was another level to it, sometimes, something guttural and sincere, something that made everything he said feel sacred. Elias watched along with everyone else from the red pews of the church as his father—The Father—preached from the center.

Every sermon was more or less the same. There was a structure to it, a science, his father said. “I know who I am,” he told Elias. “And I know what my words can do. I know God speaks through me to these people, they value what I have to say. I know that you’re learning from me. There’s pressure there, Eli, but not once have I let it get to me. You know why?” It had been a rhetorical question, and Elias knew this, but he shook his head anyway. He was seven or so, at the time. “Because I have confidence that there is truth to the Word, and I know that I’m doing the right thing. I simply don’t feel the pressure. Practice helps, and so does the Mother, but at the end of the day _I_ believe in me. That’s why you all do. Do you understand me?”

He said this last thing a lot—he said it now, on the stage, “Do you understand me?” Replied to by the four dozen or so people on either side of Elias shouting murmurs of agreement.

His father continued to speak but he couldn’t focus. He was stuck on a conversation they’d had together two nights prior, alone together in the den. Candles had been burning, and moonlight filtered in through the one sole window’s curtains. His father’s voice had been gentle. “Elias.”

Elias had been studying. There were a good amount of textbooks on the bookshelves in the den, and even more dedicated to language. He was fluent in Spanish and French by seventeen, and had rudimentary skills in German. On this night he was doing his best to read a German fiction book, _Die Blechtrommel_. “Good evening,” he said tentatively, because he was rarely sought out by the Father, especially not after nightfall.

“I came to have a frank discussion with you,” he said. “About Lillian. Your betrothed.”

Lillian Scott was eighteen, a year younger than him. They’d been engaged for two years. He didn’t love her, and he was sure she didn’t love him, but he needed a wife, and an heir by age twenty.

“Have you touched her?”

“No, sir.”

“I’m curious as to why,” his father mused. “If you’re concerned she’s spoilt, I don’t know why. You know she hasn’t been with anyone. She is yours, Elias.”

“I know,” he said, his cheeks getting hot. “That’s—that’s not why. I like her, she’s pretty.”

“My son, you need your own boy.”

“She could have a daughter.”

“Then you will try again—and again, until you have one.”

Elias couldn’t look at him, couldn’t not think of Lillian: without makeup, without clothes, breasts bared before him and legs spread open. Where would that be, on his bed? On hers? And he would have to do this more than once? How many times? His stomach rolled. “Yes, sir.”

“I don’t want your nonsense answers this time, Eli.” His father gripped his chin and turned it to face him so he could look nowhere else. “And no flowery language. I want to make sure this has been drilled into your head, because you need to understand. I need you to fuck this girl. I need you to put a child in her before the winter. Which means I need you to marry her before then. This is non-negotiable—you’ve gone too long without this gift that God has given you. Any longer and you will develop perversions. Do you understand me?”

Elias struggled to nod in his grip. “I will, father, I promise I will,” he said. “I’ll meet with her after church. We’ll mark the date for the wedding.”

He was released. “Very good, then. Thank you, my boy. I’m trusting you.”

Lillian, now, sat to his right, and his mother to his left. His heartbeat felt loud enough to shake the mosaics on the walls. Lillian knew that he wanted to speak to her after the sermon, and she wasn’t stupid, she had to know what it would be about. They couldn’t procreate before their marriage, but the Movement was free-loving and she would want to play with him, to have some fun in an empty room somewhere. He glanced to her and she was smiling up at the stage. Oblivious to his silent panic.

“Mother.” He whispered to his left. His mother was a skinny woman with dark hair and dark eyes, lines everywhere. He spoke quickly over the sound of his pulse. “I’m sorry, mother, I tried to hold it, but I can’t. May I be excused to the bathroom?”

“Oh, of course,” she said without looking at him. She shooed him off with her hand. “But be quick about it.”

“Thank you.” His insides did a weird thing when she said yes, a sort of jump, a confirmation of something. He rose slowly and moved stealthily to the back of the room where the exits were, and then to the men’s room. Their church wasn’t very big; it was single occupancy. A little room with a small window about the size of a large board game. He locked the door.

If he lifted himself to his toes, he could see outside. It was a sunny day, and barely noon. The church was located in an area with a few shops and diners nearby, but it wasn’t particularly busy out. He lowered himself to his feet.

He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t stay here. He couldn’t go with Lillian. He wasn’t ready; not for a wife, not for a child, not for…. relations. He’d rather be whipped. He’d rather be stripped of his status as a follower, as the Father’s son and heir. He’d rather be dead.

Like a bolt of energy, he stood straight, his adrenaline pumping. He couldn’t do any of this, but he didn’t have to. Using the sink, he climbed to reach the window, and when he opened it he delighted at the warmth from the sun on his face. The church was always so cold.

Elias was small enough, five foot six and barely a hundred-thirty pounds, so with some effort he squeezed himself through the window and landed sloppily on the grass below. He could hear the men guarding the entrance around the adjacent side of the building conversing with each other. He didn’t spare a second. As soon as he stood up, he ran.

Despite living just outside of this town for his entire life, he didn’t know it. He’d never traversed it. He didn’t know these streets, these businesses. There weren’t too many people about, but there were some, and they paid him no mind. A boy running in his Sunday best wasn’t enough to warrant stopping him, it appeared.

He did know, vaguely, the direction of the Belmont Bridge, which was conveniently the largest one in town and only about two miles away—maybe even less. He was driven over it everyday in the church van to get into the area. He knew very well how tall it was. He knew very well it would kill him, the fall. He grinned as he ran. He was getting close, and he was drenched, at this point, in sweat, but he couldn’t stop smiling.

He wouldn’t have to do anything anymore. There was nothing to fight for. He would be free.

The bridge, once unimpressive, now seemed imposing. On shaky legs he dragged himself to the base of it, just underneath, to collapse on the wet grass and mud there. He couldn’t breathe very well. It didn’t matter.

Only one second thought kept creeping in… would God forgive him for this? Suicide was usually a sin, but surely living a full life with his perversion would be worse? Even if he didn’t act on it, it would be there. Silently destroying his relationships, the credibility of his sermons, his desire to go on. What a long con of a life that would be, only to end up with the same result. No, this was the right thing to do.

He checked his watch, which felt slimy on his wrist. It had been forty minutes. Church was over. They would be looking for him. It was now or never. So he rose, painfully, like a corpse from the grave, and maneuvered himself to the bridge’s sidewalk.

And he walked.

When he reached it, the peak of the bridge had quite the view. The water was calm today, and there were only two boats out far below him. It would be like concrete. It would be quick. He thought for a moment of the humiliation if the fall didn’t kill him, if it only maimed him, but that was impossible. He stared down. It would be quick.

Naturally, it being nearly one in the afternoon now, there were plenty of cars crossing, but he ignored them, and they ignored him. He tried to move as quickly as he could while still having sure feet. He moved himself away from the sidewalk and to the outer edge of the bridge, so that it was only his arms that tethered him to his life.

He looked down, and he wasn’t afraid. He really was nothing to no one but his mother. She could have another child, another boy, and this time since they’d had the practice they’d do a better job of making a good one. A natural one. And Lillian would find another purpose for her life. No one in the town knew him; no one would mourn him. And it would be quick.

He closed his eyes.

“Hey, is that you?”

Startled, he turned to look at who spoke. A man was on the sidewalk, close to him, with an expression of concern and then apology. “No, I’m sorry, I thought you were someone else. What’s your name?”

Vehicles drove past, loud white noise in his ears. The man was scruffy in the face. He had brown eyes. “Elias,” he answered uncertainly.

“I’m Reuben,” the man said. He moved a little closer as he spoke. “Listen, Elias, I need some help. You see, I lost something special down by the grocery store a few blocks down the road. I’ve been looking around, right, and I looked all over but I still can’t find it. But I know it's there. Do you think you can help me? I just think two pairs of eyes, you know, will be a lot better than one.”

Elias stared at him. He was sweaty, still breathing a little heavy, his hair sticking grossly to his forehead. He knew on some level, in the back of his head, that this was just a trick to get him to come away from the edge. It was too late for him now, there was no way out of this that wasn’t harsh punishment or death, he must do it and do it _now_ —but there was also this man, Reuben, who was looking at him expectantly and he thought that he couldn’t now, because now there was someone who would mourn him. There was someone who would have tried to save him, and failed. “Okay,” he mumbled.

Reuben helped him to get back to the sidewalk. “Thank you,” he said. “It means a lot to me.” His arms were strong when they held his weight, and he was tall, a lot taller than Elias.

“I’m sorry,” Elias said.

“For what?” They walked together. Elias was on unsteady feet, but Reuben didn’t hold him. He did stay close.

“I didn’t mean to—” Elias didn’t know what he was trying to say. “I only wanted to get away.”

“Well, you’re away now.” Reuben’s hands went to his jean pockets. “Now you’re with me, and you’re stuck with me. But we can do whatever you want to do. After I get my very special thing, of course. Hey, it's hot outside, isn't it?”

Elias hugged himself. "I like the heat."

"Of course you do," Reuben said.

The store Reuben mentioned wasn’t a grocery store like he'd said, but a jiffy store, some tiny thing on the edge of a neighborhood street not that far from Belmont. It had a lot of neon light signs on the windows. One window at the edge of the building was boarded up, like it had been broken into. The door dinged when they entered. Reuben greeted the cashier.

“Do you know him?” Elias asked. He wrapped his arms around himself, at once acutely aware of how disheveled he looked. There were a few people in here. He could feel them staring, and their stares each sent a hot rush of shame through him about the whole ordeal. He was such an idiot. He couldn't believe how stupid he was. Stupid, stupid.

Reuben bumped him lightly, shoulder to shoulder. “I come here a lot, dude. You’ve never been here? Come on, follow me.” He led him to the back of the room, where a wall of drinks awaited them. Elias had never actually been inside of a tiny store like this. A handful of times he'd accompanied Sister Olivia to a supermarket further into town, but he'd never been anywhere this quaint. He liked the way the signs flickered and flashed at him, and how entire walls were dedicated to something with purpose. Behind the cashier, a wall of cigarettes. Reuben opened the door to the wall of drinks. “I did lie,” he admitted as he grabbed a dark bottle of tea, “a little. I didn't lose anything. But I did want to get a drink with someone.” He held his drink up a bit as if to toast.

“I don't mind,” Elias said.

“Do you want anything?”

He paused. It hadn't crossed his mind as an option, but Reuben was looking at him expectantly. “Uh—that's okay.”

"Are you sure?”

Again, he paused. At home, he wasn’t allowed to drink anything sinful. They had water, of course, and sometimes juice, and milk from the cows, but this was it. It was a treat whenever his mother occasionally had tea. There was never coffee, never soda. “I don’t have any money,” he said awkwardly.

“It’s only like two bucks,” Reuben said. “I can handle it.”

Elias stared at all the drinks. They were standing in front of the tea; even in this, there were so many options. “I don’t know what to choose.”

“Well, what’s your favorite?”

At once, Elias realized he wanted to do everything in his power to appear normal. He did not want Reuben to think weird of him, to know how he grew up, because he knew that it wasn’t normal. So he walked over to the sodas, and he grabbed what he knew everyone loved: a coke.

Reuben paid for them both, and they exited back into the street. When Elias unscrewed the bottle cap the drink fizzed at him sharply. They walked together, Reuben on the side nearest the road. Elias took a sip, and then grimaced, and took another, and it began to taste good.

Reuben pressed a button at a crosswalk to get them across. “Do you want to do anything?”

“I actually, um.” He hated himself. _Speak clearly_ , he thought, in his father’s voice. “People might be looking for me. But I don’t want them to find me, yet.”

“You want to go somewhere private?”

“Can we?” he asked.

Reuben smiled.

***

They took a bus. It was half full, and they sat together, Elias by the window. He stared out of it for the entire ride. He was fascinated by the town now that he could really look at it with eyes that were, at least for the moment, free. He liked the way people on bikes swerved through traffic; he liked the shop owners sweeping the rugs in front of their doors; he liked passing other buses, and noticing people in their cars, girls picking their teeth in the mirror and old men driving something shiny and luxurious. He even liked the sky. It was the same sky as it had always been, but different all the same.

After exiting, it was a short walk—less than a mile—to Reuben’s apartment. The building wasn’t so much tall as it was wide, and brown. He lived on the second floor. Elias noticed the tiny decorations on his keychain as he opened the door but he couldn’t make sense of them. The door itself opened quietly. “I’m sorry for the mess,” Reuben said.

It was a quaint room that smelled strongly like something Elias couldn’t identify, but he liked it. The door opened to the living room, wherein was held a single couch, coffee table, and TV. The TV wasn’t big but it was a flat screen, and hooked up to several gaming consoles and a mountain of game DVDs littering the rest of the stand and the floor around it, some discs left out on top. To the left was the kitchen, tiny and relatively clean.

“My roommate is gone for the day.”

“Someone else lives here?” Elias asked.

“Sort of?” Reuben shrugged. “She sleeps here. She pays rent. She’s gone most of the time.”

Elias was full of questions. She? Reuben lived here with no one but a woman? Would she be upset to know that he was here, in her space?

“My room is down the hallway.” Reuben led the way. He pointed out the bathroom when they passed it, and then opened his door.

A mattress was on the floor in the corner, and a messed blanket sat atop it. The window was wide open, and Elias could hear birdsong. Many things were in here: a desk, a bookshelf, an open closet littered with clothes, empty liquor bottles, a guitar.

“Sorry again,” Reuben said. Elias looked at him and noticed he seemed a little embarrassed.

“I like it,” he said, which made Reuben laugh. Elias pointed to the guitar. “You play the guitar?”

Reuben bent to pick it up, nodding. He played a short tune, quick but fun, before pressing the strings with his palm for instant quiet. “This is pretty much the only thing I’m good at.”

“Can I see it?” His face flushed when he asked, embarrassed at his own brazenness. But Reuben said, “Of course,” and handed it over. Elias didn’t know how to hold it, so he held it awkwardly in his arms, trying to imitate the way Reuben had held it.

“Like this,” Reuben said. He came close to him to adjust Elias’s grip, hands on hands. His voice had been soft, a gentle correction. Elias fell into him and then, inhaling quickly, took a step backward.

In the silence following, he made himself speak. “I wish I could play.”

“I could teach you, if you want.”

Elias smiled at him. “I never come into town….”

“Not ever?”

“Only for church. That’s why I’m here today.”

“I could bring you into town. I do have a car—well, I share one—I just prefer to walk.”

Elias tried to think quickly. Was there any possible way to sustain a friendship with someone outside of the church? This wasn’t even allowed—but nothing he had done today was allowed. He could ask to go into work with Sister Olivia; she came and worked in the office of the church after hours along with a few others to establish communications. He wondered if he could lie that he was converting Reuben himself. Lying…. the thought terrified him.

“I don’t know….” he said, fumbling. “I….”

“I’ll give you my number,” Reuben offered.

“I don’t have a phone.” He felt pathetic as he said it.

“Do you have access to one?”

“Yes….”

“Then I’ll give you my number.” Said with finality. Reuben went to a journal he had lying on the floor beside his bed. He flipped through to an empty page and tore a piece out. With a nearby pen, he wrote on it, folded it twice, and stepped towards Elias. “Here.”

Elias stared at it. _No one can know_ , he thought, _if I take this, no one can know_. “Thank you.” He took it. “If…. if I don’t contact you in a week, can you check on me?” He asked this tentatively. He’d been trying to think this through: he could use the landline if the house was asleep, or step out with Sister’s phone if he was allowed to go with her, erase the call history.

Reuben nodded seriously. “Okay.” Elias must have been visibly tense because Reuben led him back to the living room. “Come on, we can play some games.”

The couch was surprisingly comfortable compared to how it looked, and they got caught up in time; they played for four hours. Reuben had an Xbox and a PlayStation 4, and many games for both, though they mostly wasted it on racing games. Two hours in, Reuben left for a bathroom break, and came back with a glass of brown liquid.

“What’s that?” Elias has asked.

“Rum and coke.”

“Like, liquor?”

Reuben smiled at him. “My ID’s in my room, but I swear I’m twenty-two.” Elias huffed. “Wanna try it?”

“What’s it do?” He accepted the glass when offered it, and stared into it. It looked fine.

“It gets you drunk.”

“I’ve never been drunk.” He looked up to find Reuben looking at him oddly. “I’m only nineteen,” he defended.

Reuben still didn’t say anything. “Do you want to be?”

“Want to be what?”

“Drunk?”

Elias gripped the glass harder. “Are you going to be?”

“Probably.”

“Then yes.” He lifted the glass to his mouth and swallowed more than he sipped before coughing in disgust.

“I’ll go make another glass then,” Reuben said, laughing.

The process, then, of becoming drunk, was much quicker for Elias than it was for Reuben, he noticed. They both had mixed drinks while they played on the console that, rather than sip out of, they downed entire large gulps of between rounds. Elias felt the warmth within him. First it was in his chest, and then up into his face, his cheeks, and from there it spread like wildfire.

“Crap,” he said this in frustration at being hit in-game, at losing, “Reuben—no!”

“Can’t you say ‘shit,’ huh?”

“No, actually, no I can’t,” he said playfully.

“And why not?”

“Religion,” he said simply. “I can’t do anything.”

“So ‘fuck’ is off the table then, too?”

“I don’t say sinful words.”

“Fuck is not a sin,” Reuben said. “Fuck is in the Bible. Like damn and hell.”

“You’re a liar.”

“Dude, Google it! Except don’t, because, uh, I am lying.”

Elias laughed loudly—too loudly—at this, and this cost him the game. He groaned.

“God won’t smite you, you know, if you say fuck,” Reuben told him. “You don’t have to, but I mean—if you want to, I won’t tell him.”

Elias faced him, warm in his bones. They were close together on the couch, practically on top of each other, and so facing him brought their faces close. Inches away. “I’ll be punished,” he said.

“Not if nobody knows.”

Seconds passed. Elias said it quietly, “Fuck,” and following it was a rush of guilt and then, immediately overshadowing it, a rush of excitement. “Shit,” he said breathlessly, happily.

“You don’t have to censor yourself for me,” Reuben told him. “I want you to know that. Just be you. And if you want to say fuck, then fuck it, you know? Say it.”

“I was going to kill myself,” Elias said, almost in disbelief. “I was…. I was going to jump from the bridge and die. That was supposed to be it.” Reuben said nothing. “I was running from church but not—not from God, not—just from my responsibilities.” He slurred out the word, struggling with the syllables. “I don’t wanna be who I’m s’posed to be. But I have to be now. ‘Cause I can’t kill myself.”

“You don’t have to be anyone,” Reuben said quietly.

“It’s not that simple.” Elias glanced at the balcony. It hadn’t been closed, so he could see quite clearly the darkness of the sky outside and the lack of stars. “Fuck,” he said, still a word said quietly, and then again in a tone of fear, “fuck, when did it get dark?”

It started happening before he could stop it: panic, a hand around his heart and squeezing violently. He had to go home—now, as soon as possible, before this day crossed into the next and whatever punishment was waiting for him became two times worse. He became aware, distantly, of Reuben saying his name. “Elias. Eli.” His eyes were brown, dark brown, when they looked at him, his expression serious. “Talk to me.”

Elias closed his eyes. “I’m scared.”

“You don’t have to go home.”

“I do.” He nodded miserably. “I do.”

“You don’t—”

“It’s not that easy!” Elias jumped away from him and stood. He wobbled on his feet and fell to the floor, feeling defeated. “Ow.” Reuben helped him up, clearly bragging about how much more sober he was. “Take me home,” Elias ordered.

“If I do, will you be safe?” Reuben seemed pained that he even had to ask.

“Obviously,” he huffed. “My life is safe and fine and normal.”

“Elias.”

“I’m sorry.” He closed his eyes and covered his face with his hands. He felt like he was going to cry, but he was determined not to. “Sorry, sorry. It’s just the worst day. The worst fucking day…. it was supposed to go differently.”

“I haven’t really said it yet, so I want to make myself clear,” Reuben said. “Eli, I’m glad you didn’t jump. I’m glad you came over to my apartment today.” Elias dropped his hands to look at him miserably. “And I want to see you again. And again, and again.”

“You don’t even know me,” Elias said.

“What are you talking about?” Reuben said. “I just spent like seven hours with you. I know you like coke, you’ve never played guitar, and that you’re a fun drunk, and then a weepy one. I know how you sound when you laugh and when you’re upset. I’ve just seen you fall on your ass. You’re clearly kind and thoughtful. What else is there to know?”

Elias frowned. “I did not weep.”

“Regardless, I want to see you again.”

“Well.” Elias couldn’t think. Reuben’s words washed over him like a summer wave, cool and powerful. But he could also barely stand straight, and he knew that whatever was waiting for him at home wouldn’t be pleasant. And he had to go home. “You will. I want to see you too. More than anything now. I hadn’t tried anything new in a long time,” he told him. “I want to keep trying new things. But I know that God is watching me, Reuben. And I need to go home.”

Reuben nodded solemnly. “Just give me a glass of water and half an hour and I’ll drive you.”

***

Elias lived in a large white farmhouse on two hundred and fifty acres of farmland. They owned horses, cows, and chickens, as well as two dogs. The house doubled as a family home for Elias, his father, his mother, Brother Desmond, and Sister Olivia, as well as a meeting place for discussions of whatever the elders talked about. Elias had only attended a few meetings so far, to “prepare him.” From what he could tell they discussed things like branching out, conversion, traitors, cynics, and sexual therapy.

Elias and his betrothed, Lillian, were the only people who passed age sixteen without having a sexual therapy session with either the Mother or the Father, depending on gender. Elias technically had many bastard siblings because of this tradition, but he was the only true heir to the Movement because he was born in wedlock.

It was his duty to create more sons. He told himself this when they were on the ride there. He couldn’t be killed no matter what he did wrong, because he was the only heir, and he couldn’t die without creating another one. They could inflict pain and strip him of his rights, but they couldn’t kill him.

_But you could kill yourself? And what sense is this now?_

The night was dark because of the absence of moonlight. Seeing the small city in this low light felt sort of ethereal to him. Reuben’s car was clean, unlike the apartment, save for an empty fast food cup in one of the cup holders.

“You live far,” Reuben commented. He drove casually, one hand on the wheel, relaxed in his seat.

“I live on a farm.”

“Oh yeah?”

Elias smiled. “It’s pretty fun. I’ve lived there my whole life.”

“What do you do?”

“I milk the cows,” he said. “Pull the eggs from the coop. Tend the crops. It’s mostly tending the crops.” He paused. “I birthed a horse once.”

“Holy shit?”

Elias grinned at him, eager to please. “It was an interesting day. She’s two now. Her name is Dolly.”

“So you’re a farm boy, then,” Reuben said. “That’s pretty interesting. I don’t think I would have guessed it.”

“What do I look like?”

Reuben shrugged. “A church boy.”

“I am a church boy.”

“Don’t I know it. Say ‘fuck’ again.”

“Fuck,” Elias said. Guilt and thrill. “But I’m still a church boy.”

“That’s fine,” Reuben said. “Not me, though.”

“No?”

“No.”

“So you don’t believe in anything?”

“I believe in…” He took a second to consider his words. “I believe in doing good… and treating the earth right. I don’t believe in a creator.”

“So we’re just here, then?” Elias asked. “For no reason at all?”

“I don’t see why that’s a bad thing, I guess.” Elias frowned at him. “What do you believe in, then?” Reuben asked him in turn. “Why are we here?”

“God created us to love us,” he said after a few moments.

“And does he?”

“Of course he does.”

“He doesn’t show it very well.”

Elias groaned, and dragged his hands over his face. “I’m too drunk to go on about this.” He wasn’t, really, he felt pretty fucking sober now that he was on the verge of home. They'd been driving for nearly forty minutes and he'd been working on a cup of water the whole time.

“I’m sorry,” Reuben told him. “Really, I am. I don’t mean to disrespect your religion. It’s good to believe in something.”

“Do you think I’d have any hope of converting you?” Elias asked genuinely. He imagined Reuben over at his house, helping out with the farm, going to the church. Joining their family. Reuben would have to bed his mother. Elias winced on the inside.

“No,” Reuben said. “Sorry, Eli.”

He had sobered up enough to feel something at the pit of his stomach from the nickname. “It’s okay,” he said.

They were coming up on the farmland now, so Elias had Reuben pull over.

“That’s your house?” Reuben nodded to the distant home. Every light was off, all signs of life absent.

“Yes.”

“Are you sure you don’t want me to drop you off closer?”

“I can’t be caught with you.” Elias decided to be honest. “But—remember my address.” He spoke it aloud for him. “Okay? Remember it.”

“Okay.”

“And remember my—remember what I said.”

“You still have my number?” Reuben asked him.

Elias reached into his pocket to make sure the small piece of paper was still there, and nodded. “I can’t text you.”

“You can call me, it’s fine.”

They sat together in the silence. Elias didn’t want to reach for the door handle yet. He didn’t want to think about his father. Reuben kept the car idling until it was clear Elias wasn’t getting out, and he turned it off.

“Can I tell you something?” Elias asked quietly.

“Of course.”

He breathed in shakily. “I still wish I had died,” he said.

Reuben breathed with him. He was looking down. “I’m sorry, Eli.”

“It’s not your fault.” He looked shyly up at him, and then he leaned full body across the middle area to wrap his arms around Reuben and hug him. He didn’t know when he’d see him again, or if he would at all, really. Anything could happen between this car and that house. Anything at all.

Reuben hugged him back and he was so warm, so sincere with it, that Elias nearly sobbed from it. He couldn’t remember getting a tight hug from anyone but his mother. “Thank you,” he said into his neck. Reuben said nothing.

He got out of the car. When he glanced back to the house he could see the man in the darkness: Brother Desmond, all in black, marching toward him. Small but fast, and getting closer. It took everything in him not to outwardly react. He turned to Reuben and spoke quickly, trying not to show his panic. “Okay, Reuben, goodbye. When I close the door, please leave quickly, okay? Don’t hesitate. So um—bye. I’ll see you again.” He didn’t wait for an okay but instead shut the door, turned around and started walking determinedly away. Brother would stop to greet him before continuing on to the intruder, maybe.

Thankfully, Reuben got the hint: when the door shut, he started the engine, and he left.

Elias met Desmond in the middle of the field.

He started: “I’m sorry, Brother Desmond, I’m sorry, please—” Desmond hit him with mean eyes, and when he didn’t fall, he hit him again, so that Elias was on the ground, disoriented. Then he grabbed Elias by the foot, and dragged him along the grass.

Elias didn’t resist.


	2. Chapter 2

The distance traveled to the house felt dragged out. He protected his head with his arms the entire way there, even though he was just being pulled over grass and dirt, really. Once they reached the porch, the automatic light flickered on. Desmond let him go. Elias sat up, but he said nothing. He watched Desmond watch him.

In the Movement, following the Mother and the Father, the importance in the hierarchy went to Brother and Sister. The Sister, usually a kind and charismatic person, would be in charge of affairs of the public. With help from a group she herself puts together, she spreads the word of God to the people that the church can’t or doesn’t reach. She’s usually well-liked. Sister Olivia, the current Sister, is old—fifty-three—and has had several children that help her now. The older children are all the offspring of the Father.

On the other hand, the Brother is understood as a guardian. He protects the church from those that wish to hurt it, and he’s essentially at the Father’s beck and call. Elias always thought of the role as something like an assassin. Brother Desmond in particular was ruthless. Tall, large, and quiet, until he had to speak.

He had a son of his own, a bastard child with the Mother. Not many got the privilege of that. Her name was Caroline, and she was younger than Elias, only fourteen. She’d have to see the Father soon for her womanhood ceremony.

Now, Desmond spoke. He lifted a single finger to point to where Reuben’s car had been. Elias sat on the grass at the foot of the porch stairs. There was no point in standing, but he made himself sit up for dignity. “Who?” Desmond asked.

“No one,” Elias said quickly. Desmond kicked him, which sent him to the ground again, but he sat back up.

“Who?” Desmond repeated.

“Brother,” Elias said. “Please.”

With another kick, Desmond descended the stairs and placed his shoe to Elias’s cheek to keep him down. Not hard, really, but hard enough to humiliate him, hard enough to make sure he didn’t move. “Elias.”

Elias closed his eyes. “I want to see father.” He didn’t open them to see if Desmond heard him when he said nothing in reply. Eventually the foot was raised and he was hauled up roughly by his arm. Desmond pulled him into the house.

“He won’t kill me,” Elias said defensively. Convincing himself.

“Maybe not.”

The house was quiet inside. All the lights were off, but Elias wasn’t afraid of this. This house was his home, he grew up here, and God was always present here. Evil could make no home here. Even if he were punished, it wouldn’t be an act of evil. He truly believed that he had to be punished; he’d left church, after all, which was an insult to God. Nobody knew about the rest yet, and this was what he was afraid of. He was no good at lying.

He was led to the attic. His family had a fairly large one. It was vaguely messy in the sense that all attics were: dust, boxes, miscellaneous furniture. Desmond grabbed a chair, pulled it toward the middle of the room, and ordered Elias to sit. When he did, Desmond tied him to the chair with a thin and irritating rope. His arms tied behind him, and an ankle to each front leg. “Stay,” Desmond said, as if Elias could or would do anything else, and he left.

In the silence, Elias closed his eyes. He whispered his words into the quiet. “Holy Father,” he said. “I’m sorry for leaving church…. I’m sorry for—for risking my life that you gave me.” He told himself to ask for forgiveness, but he couldn’t. “I’m doing my best,” he said instead. He heard footsteps now. “Please advise mercy to him. Mercy, mercy.”

The Father—his father—was both imposing and inviting. He terrified Elias to his core in a way that no one else had ever even come close to. There wasn’t anything at all he was more scared of, nothing, and there was no one he wanted approval from more. He arrived in his pajama pants and a t-shirt and even then, he seemed noble in front of him. It was his expression, his essence, the way with which he carried himself. His mouth twisted down to denote distaste, which sent any ounce of bravery Elias might have had out the window.

“It is night,” he scolded. Elias could probably count on one hand the amount of times he’s had a conversation with his father after nightfall, though this was the only time it had been very late, almost ten o’clock.

“Yes.” Elias kept his head down, prostrating himself as much as he could. “Yes, father, I—”

“I won’t hear it,” his father said. “Your excuses. You embarrass me.” Elias said nothing. “Just tell me what is true. You abandoned church under the guise of a bathroom trip?”

He swallowed. “Yes.”

“You were gone for many hours with no word. Desmond tells me you arrived here in a car with someone else.”

“Yes.” He could feel himself start sweating.

“Who?”

This was it: “No one,” he lied, feeling terrible. “I asked someone to take me home.”

“Desmond said it wasn’t a cab.”

“I don’t know how to call a cab. I just asked someone.”

This was believable; he really didn’t know how to call one. His father stared at him. “And what of Lillian?” he asked. “Did you even consider her? Her feelings, her body?”

“I’m so sorry,” Elias told him. “I’ll tell her that myself. I’ll apologize to her.”

“And will you consummate?”

Elias paused. “Not until marriage.”

“Which might be sooner than you think,” his father said unpleasantly. “Very well. You’ll be cut. Three on each leg. I’ll have Lillian come over in the morning to tend to you. You’ll sleep in the basement tonight.”

He looked up. He couldn’t stop himself from speaking. “No, but—”

“You will.”

“Father—”

“Not another word. I had to be woken up in the night to hear that my son, my _only_ son,” he stepped forward, “who betrayed his family on the day of rest, and did God knows what else during his time away, has arrived finally only to whimper and whine at me. I am disappointed.” Elias couldn’t look at him. “But I’m not disgraced, Elias” his father continued. His voice was weary, done with this conversation. “I’m not affected. You did nothing—that I know of—to truly be angry with you for. You were curious, and so now you will be punished, and this will be the end of it. Tomorrow Lillian will tend to your wounds as wives do, and we’ll put this behind us. Eli.” Elias looked up at him. “Do you understand me?”

“Yes, father.” He’d been granted mercy. “Thank you.”

His father started for the exit. “I love you. And so does your mother, you know that.”

“I love you, too.”

On his way out, he said, “I’ll send Brother Desmond up for you.”

***

Three long, deep cuts, all on his thighs.

The basement was more well-kept than the attic, with a concrete floor and brick walls on every side. There were no decorations but a single long table in the middle, made for a person to be strapped to. Along one wall was a countertop that held various items used for torture. This was Brother Desmond’s space.

The knife was not Desmond’s favorite weapon, but Elias thought he still liked using it. He clearly enjoyed his job, because he smiled each time he cut him, and when he said “Quiet,” after Elias shouted Elias could hear the secret, real word behind the sound: _Louder_.

Each one hurt, badly. Afterward, Elias was left alone on the table in the dark. He couldn’t sleep because of the pain of it. He was also too terrified to move. It was this fear that controlled him the most in the moment.

For Elias's entire life, he had never been punished so severely. He was a good kid. Well-behaved, quiet. He had hardly even been scolded growing up, having always been so eager to do the right thing, to say the right words, to please both his mother and father and everyone else. Certainly he'd never been beaten. He’d known that he would be punished harshly because he knew the rules of the Movement, and he knew the consequences of breaking them, but still he'd never experienced those consequences until now.

He deserved this. He couldn’t see anything in the darkness, but he knew that he was bleeding badly. Desmond had teased him for this by wiping up the blood that had seeped from his wounds onto the table, and smearing it on his face.

Grass and twigs and dirt and blood. He was very dirty; he felt it on his skin, and in his soul. He was unclean. Now his outside just reflected his inside.

Elias closed his eyes; he thought of Reuben. He wondered what he was doing now. He tried to think if he regretted anything at all about the last twenty-four hours, and he really didn’t know. He'd told Reuben that he wished he’d killed himself because he knew that something like this pain was waiting for him, but now that he’d survived it—it really was a much lighter sentence than he’d thought he’d receive, to tell the truth—he didn’t think that that was true. And he didn’t regret leaving church, because he wouldn’t have met Reuben otherwise. He wanted to meet Reuben again.

The fear still had control of him, but it wasn't overwhelming. Desire had just the slightest leverage up. He wanted to see Reuben again, and he would. And he would keep it a better secret next time.

By the time morning came around, he wished that he could say he fell asleep eventually. But he didn’t.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw for self harm

Lillian was taller than him, but not by much, only enough to intimidate him when she wanted. Her hair was a bright red color, her eyes hazel, and her skin freckled and pretty. She sat on a chair beside Elias in his bedroom. He laid on his back on his bed as she did her best to wipe his wounds clean with a gentle hand. It burned each time she pressed.

"The Father called my dad this morning," she said. "Really early, I thought there'd been terrible news. Well, I mean, I guess there was." Elias laughed humorlessly. "But I thought someone had died."

"I'm alive," Elias told her. "Not that Desmond cares."

"He would never kill you!"

"Never?"

She stopped what she was doing to put all her attention into frowning at him. "Not for no reason." He said nothing, so she continued. "What all did you do, anyway? No one has told me anything. I was just told to come and care for you, since you'd been to the chamber. I know that you left church—"

"That's all that happened." He closed his eyes and inhaled sharply when it stung spectacularly for a second.

"Sorry," she said quickly. "Well, what did you go and do?"

"Nothing."

"You did nothing for hours and hours?"

"Nothing of interest." His throat became tight with the lie, but Lillian had never been particularly observant about these things.

"Well…." His eyes were still shut, but he heard her switching materials. His wounds must be clean, because she began wrapping them with great care. "I'm glad that you're alright," she said after she was done.

Now that his legs were wrapped he could sit again, she told him, so she helped him to sit up on his bed slowly. His feet hung limply off. He stared at them, only because he didn't want to look at her. It hurt to sit like this, it fucking hurt. He glanced at her as if she could have noticed him cursing in his head, but of course she was oblivious. She sat back down in her chair. "Elias," she started quietly.

"Thank you," he replied. He didn’t want her to go on, didn’t want to hear whatever she was going to say.

"You're welcome. But, Elias—" From his peripheral he could see her fidget. "I thought we ought to talk about our duties."

He felt the same old fear begin to rush him, the one strong enough to send him to the edge of a bridge. He didn't trust himself to speak so filled with it.

"I wondered if that might have been the reason you left church," Lillian continued. "So that you wouldn't have to make love to me. I'd like to talk frankly about it with you. I want there to be communication between us. Elias. Is that why?"

"No," he said, probably too quickly. Maybe she was observant after all. "It was for another reason that's, ah…. more personal. I don't want to talk about it."

"We don't have to do everything at once," she said kindly. She glanced to the bedroom door to make sure that it was closed. "You don't have to touch me yet if you're not ready." She rose from her chair and sat next to him on the bed, their thighs touching. For ease of access to the backs of his legs he'd worn only his boxers, and she wore only a skirt. Her skin could be felt against his. "I'll take care of you." Her hand went to his boxers now, to rest atop of him there, massaging him. The touch made him jump from his skin and he moved bodily away from her, which ignited a pain in his legs that was hard to ignore, but he ignored it. For the sake of her face, full of hurt.

"Sorry," he said hastily. He looked away, anywhere, anywhere else. "I’m sorry. I—I don't think I'm ready for that either. I'm just—"

"It's okay," she said. "I guess… _Tenderness_ doesn't come easy to everyone… But I would like to teach you how to receive it, if you'll let me. It doesn't have to be today. But it's our responsibility to enjoy each other, Elias. You have to," she added in this last bit like she was afraid her point hadn't been made clear.

"I know," he told her.

"Can I kiss you, at least?" Wearily, he nodded, so she came closer to him. Her lips against his were unpleasant, her body close and uncomfortable. He could feel her breasts through her shirt and against his chest. He did his best to kiss her back, but even this he'd never done before, and he knew he wasn't any good at it. When she began to open her mouth against him, he pulled away. She looked at him for a moment—he could see the disappointment there and he ignored it, he ignored it—and then she backed away, and stood up. "Thank you," she said.

"I'll get better at this,” he promised. "Just let me—let my body heal first. It hurts too much, I can't feel anything else."

"That makes sense…”

"Next time I see you." He regretted saying this the moment he said it, but it was too late now. It would be a game now, of avoiding her.

She smiled down at him. "Next time." She stood there for a few seconds, saying nothing. "Eli?"

"Yes?"

"We have to set the date too, you know." Her voice came out somewhat strained, like she didn't really want to either. "Your father—"

"I know what he wants me to do," he said. "You don't have to keep telling me. I know it all."

"We can't just never talk about anything."

He didn't see why not, but he made himself speak. "He wants a baby by summer." She smiled just a bit. She came closer to him as he continued. "So we—we need to be married and consummated by winter."

"A baby," she said almost whimsically. He kept quiet because she seemed to be caught up in her own thoughts at the prospect. Her hand was on her stomach as if there were already something to feel for there. "I could be the new Mother. A son by you…."

"December," Elias forced out. He didn't want to think about any of the things she had going through her mind. "Early December. An early Christmas present. Does that sound okay?"

The proposal snapped her out of it. "Of course that's okay. _Tomorrow_ would be okay with me, you know that."

He didn't; he frowned at her. "Really? But you don't even love me."

“Who says? Besides.” She smiled at him sweetly. “We have plenty of time to fall in love.”

***

Elias's room was big. He had a big room in a big house on a big plot of land that he knew every inch of, that he had spent every minute of his life learning. In his room was his bed, his closet—which stored many of the same types of outfits, as he almost exclusively wore plain button-up shirts and dark pants with a belt—his desk, and a windowsill that overlooked the spacious backyard and had its own built-in rest area for a sill. A standing mirror stood near his closet. He stood in front of it now.

He was alone and naked, save for his boxers. In his hands he held Reuben's number. The paper was crumbled and had blood on it. He'd been staring at it for so long that he'd long since committed it to memory, nine digits so wonderfully placed, and now he was stuck staring at himself.

Elias looked like his father. He had been told that so many times now that it had to be the truth. They shared key traits: dirty blond hair, blue eyes, same ears, same chin. But the differences mattered to him. Elias had a handful of light freckles across his face that his father didn’t have. The shape of his brow was different, and his legs were long. Looking down, he could see the bandaging. It was only yesterday that he'd been bandaged, and his wounds ached beneath them. He wanted to know what they looked like.

He set the small slip of paper down very carefully onto his desk like it were something with a beating heart, before stepping back to the mirror. The wrapping was easy enough to take off, but the gauze underneath was more difficult. He grimaced at the stings and the dried blood. Once they were off, he turned around in front of the mirror so that he could see the cuts properly.

Nothing but shame went through him at the sight. These would form scars that he’d bear for the rest of his life. A physical reminder of his insolence. Cruelly, he didn't think that enough had been done to him. They didn’t hurt enough. They weren’t shocking enough. At the moment, they weren’t even bleeding.

Outside, the moon was high, just a sliver of white up there. Here in the country there were many stars to be seen. This late, his mother would be sleeping. It was possible that his father was still awake, but regardless he’d be in their shared bedroom. Sister was asleep; Brother was likely awake, but he’d be outside guarding, not in the kitchen—Elias wanted to visit the kitchen. This was where the sharpest knives were, after all.

His door did creak as it opened, but he was sure to keep his steps silent as he entered the hallway and descended the staircase. He hadn’t bothered to rewrap his thighs beforehand. He enjoyed the pulling feeling as he took each step, enjoyed the pain that it caused.

The house was as quiet as he’d predicted. They didn’t keep any lights on throughout the night, so Elias padded his way through to the kitchen in darkness. He didn’t need to see anyway; he knew which cupboards held what. Cups, plates, silverware. There was a knife block, but it’d be noticed quickly if one of the knives there went missing. Under the sink, near the back, was the old stuff people forgot about: a toddler’s spoon, plastic containers without lids and long forgotten, bags packed into bags. He grabbed a small object next to an old recipe book: an old pocket knife. It wasn’t anything special. He flipped it open to test it against his hand, and it was sharp enough for him.

He hastened back to his room with a strange excitement, probably too fast for comfort. He still made sure to shut his door with great care to be quiet. It didn’t lock, so he moved his bedside table in front of it as a barricade, doing his best to be silent about it.

Back to the mirror he went with his knife. He sat on the floor in front of it, on his knees, so that his thighs were bared before him. He stared at the knife for a few moments and then he closed his eyes and clasped his hands together to pray, the weapon safe between them.

“Holy Father,” he whispered. “I know I’m awful. But I’m in control of this. I want to see Reuben again.” He said it bravely, a declaration for the Heavens. “I have to, I need to. I’m sorry. Please accept my apology.”

In an amalgamation of guilt, fear, and strange excitement, he brought the blade to his skin and added to the wounds there. The blood that seeped was satisfying.


	4. Chapter 4

Yesterday morning, Elias had forgone breakfast. He'd felt too bad, he was hurting, he didn't want to face Desmond or his father or anyone. He was allowed then to stay in bed to rest and recover until Lillian came over. But he knew his father wouldn't allow this to happen twice in a row, so he forced himself to rise the next morning at seven, dress himself, and descend the stairs to the dining room.

The wounds on his legs had been doubled, though the ones he'd given himself were child's play compared to Desmond's efforts. His own cuts were shallow, shorter, and lighter. He did his best to ignore them as they pained his walk. He thought he was doing a fairly good job.

“Stop limping,” his father ordered. He was sitting at the head of the table. His mother was putting breakfast on plates, but her vacant seat was adjacent to him. Brother and Sister were also seated. At this point Brother Desmond was at the end of his shift; he wasn’t visibly tired, he never was, but Elias knew he must be tired inside. His eyes followed Elias to his seat.

“Sorry,” he said quietly. He sat adjacent to his father on the other side. It hurt to sit, but he showed no signs of it other than a grimace that he couldn’t help.

There was a tense silence at the table. Elias could feel it palpably, the elephant in the room. _You were injured. You were punished and injured. How sad for you._

His mother broke it by grasping his chin playfully. “Good morning, Eli,” she said, and kissed his cheek. She laid out his plate. It was a standard breakfast: toast, eggs from the coop—they had a hundred chickens—two pancakes, some grits. She wasn’t much of a cook, but she had the basics down. “How are you, my baby?”

“Good morning, mother.” He smiled at her. “I’m fine.”

She sat down after laying everyone else’s plates out. “I’m sorry to hear about what happened to you,” she said. She held her hands out to either side of her and Elias followed suit so that they were all holding hands around the table. “Would you like to lead us in prayer?”

Elias had fond memories of the Lord’s prayer. He could remember being thirteen, nine, six, younger even, and reciting it from memory proudly and loudly for the table: _Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done!_ It was the first prayer a child learned, and it held its own sort of power, but it’d been a long time since he’d used it genuinely at the breakfast table. He was too old for that now. He spoke and his prayer was quick and satisfactory. He enjoyed praying, it was always something personal to him, but he never enjoyed the performance of praying in front of or on behalf of others, as one did at the breakfast table.

“Thank you,” his mother said, though she didn’t have to. He’d been bound to the order of “pray” the moment she'd suggested he do it. They began eating.

“It’s good to see you, Elias,” Olivia said from the other side of the table—she was sitting beside Desmond. Olivia was drinking orange juice, same as him. That was their favorite activity to do together, pick oranges off in the orchard and wring the flavor from them. There were very little activities that Olivia did out in the yard, but she enjoyed this. “It’s been so long since I've seen you, it feels like. Doesn’t it? How long has it been, anyway?”

“Two weeks,” he replied. She had gone on a short trip to serve as a spokesperson to a few different small universities and colleges in nearby towns. She was a master of public speaking to an impressive degree, in a way that wasn’t about exerting control but exploiting the inherent human need to be friendly. It was hard for anyone to reject her because she was just a genuinely good and kind person. “I missed you the whole time.”

“I bet you did, little one!”

“It’s not been the same,” Desmond said heartily.

“She does important work,” Father said. “You’ll report to me sometime today, I assume.”

“Of course I will, and you’ll be happy to know I think we’re making good progress.”

“That so?”

“Schools are the best places on earth,” she said happily. “Let me tell you, it doesn’t get much better than a college campus. Even the oldest students, while educated, are still impressionable. People are much more open-minded there—well, some of them. I do get a lot of curious minds, though, I really do. I love them each and all.”

“Can I come with you?” Elias asked suddenly. “Someday, I mean?”

“No,” his father said with finality. He shared a look with Olivia, which seemed to make her change whatever she was going to say.

“That’s not possible, little one,” she said instead. “They’re all much too far away, anyhow. You won’t like seeing anything out there. You’ve got all you need right here.”

“What about into town?” he tried instead. This was his plan anyway: ask for something impossible and propose what he really wanted to do instead as a compromise. “That’s not that far away, and I’ve seen it all before. I think I should learn how to talk to people better if I’m to become the next Father. I’m a horrible—I’m bad at communicating.”

“That’s not a bad idea?” She looked to his father with eyebrows raised.

He didn’t seem unhappy at the concept, but he was obviously suspicious about it. “And what do you think you would do out with Sister Olivia?”

“Whatever I’m told to.”

“My little errand boy!” Olivia sounded delighted at the prospect.

“Olivia—”

“You know me, Aaron,” Olivia said to him. “I won’t let him out of my sight. I’ll have him write preaches and prayers. Answer phone calls for me. That sort of thing.” She gave Elias a wink.

His mother smiled at his father. "It'd be a good learning experience. He _is_ rather slow on that front," she said. "Maybe we've sheltered him too much."

He thought over it, eyeing Elias down with an unsettling expression. Elias kept his eyes on his dinner plate. He did his best not to think of the bridge, or Reuben, but the color of his pancakes was disturbingly similar to Reuben's skin. He could remember in great detail the feeling of that skin against his on the couch, and helping him over the ledge of the bridge, bringing him back to the world…

"Fine," he heard his father say. "You'll go with her today."

"Thank you!" Elias raised his head and spoke immediately, with sincerity. "Thank you, father."

"Your field workload doubles tomorrow to make up for what you aren't going to do today. And Eli?”

"Yes?"

"Don't disappoint me," he said. "You’ve been forgiven once. I wouldn't make bets that it would happen again. Do as you're told."

"Of course, sir." He bowed his head a little. He could feel his cheeks burn at the lie, and hoped it wasn't showing. "I am sorry… but I know better now." He could feel Desmond's eyes on him, a burning sensation, predator-like.

"I suppose we'll see."

***

Olivia worked with two of her daughters, one son, and now, Elias. Her daughters’ names were Diana and Grace, and they were nice. Both were much older than Elias, but he couldn't remember their exact ages—maybe early thirties? They looked similar to Olivia only in hair color: a dark black, matched by only the night sky.

Her son, however, was a little closer to Elias's age. He was twenty-seven. He'd long since had a wife and children, but when Elias was little, James—that was his name—was always kind to him. James taught him how to do most of the field work he knew. He'd spent a lot of time over at the house when Elias was little, but he stopped coming around after Elias turned fifteen. He hadn't seen James properly in years, other than at church.

James was easily the catalyst for why Elias was the way he was. The man was also dark-haired like the daughters, and he was tall, broad, strong—Elias had been completely obsessed with him. He wanted to be just like James, to move like him, to be close with him, to know everything about him that he could. Even when the dreams started at the onset of puberty he still couldn't interpret them for what they were; he loathed to call them sex dreams because they were so much more vague and sensual than that. In them there would be a connection of the body and mind, held loosely together by a strange fabric of reality that was bendy, wavering, and uncertain of itself. It felt like love, like being in love. But Elias couldn't interpret this either at that age. He never liked to call them sex dreams, but he still woke up with sticky underwear.

Seeing James now, in the back offices of the large church building, in a business casual jacket and tie instead of jean shorts and a tight t-shirt, Elias found it hard to speak.

"Eli! I wasn't expecting you," he said. He was smiling widely. He came in for a hug, and his embrace was much different than his sisters' had been. Elias had already seen them upon arriving, and they both hugged him at once, tight and loving. James's hug was tight but quick, over in a second. Brother-like. He held Elias by the shoulders when he pulled back. "Look at you, you're so grown-up. Are you working with us today?"

"Yes." Elias was trying not to faint. He'd bet that if he were to collapse, James would catch him in his arms.

"That's great!"

"Yeah—" 

"You know," James said. He let his shoulders go. He was staring Elias up and down, his eyes happy. "I didn't really realize how much I missed you until I saw you. Look at you, man." Elias smiled. "We should see each other more."

"I agree." Elias nodded. "I miss, um, I miss having you around."

"Life has been a mess." James frowned. "Esme just had a miscarriage, you know, a couple of months ago and that's been really hard, especially for her… I don't know, my head has been all over the place since then. I just work and pray. But I do think about you sometimes. How are you, anyway? What's been going on?"

"I'm fine,” Elias told him. "Actually, I… can you keep a secret?" James nodded. "No, I mean genuinely," Elias said more seriously. "You can't tell anyone."

"As long as you're not in danger, I won't tell a soul," James said. "You have my word."

Elias took that in. He drew a breath, and closed his eyes to exhale. He’d made his decision on the ride here on what he was going to try to do: tell James about Reuben with a white lie attached, in the hopes that he would be allowed to go see him. "I made a new friend," he began, his eyes closed. "Outside of the church."

When he opened them again, James was smiling slightly, clearly amused. "Oh yeah?"

"I don't know if you heard about the other day with me…”

"I wasn't going to say anything, but yes." He nodded. "I don't know any details, nobody does but your family, but everyone else in the Fellowship knows you left church and didn't return home for hours. It surprised me, I'll be honest with you. You have always been devout."

"I still am!" Elias said quickly. The thought that people now thought of him as less devout hurt, a lot, and it hurt even more coming from James, someone he admired more than anything. "I didn't leave church for any irreligious reason! I was just overwhelmed for—for another reason. I just had to be on my own. But I met someone."

"Oh? Some girl?"

Elias let out a breath. "No, not like that…. just a friend. But he's really nice and I—I think I could welcome him to the Movement." _A lie_. "I want to see him again. And he wants to see me too! He told me he would be open to learning more." _You're lying_.

"That's great news, Eli," James said. His voice was sincere. "How are you going to see him next? You said this is a secret, I guess no one knows about this boy?"

"No one but you," Elias replied. "And um, I was hoping to use this time for that." James tilted his head, confused. "Like, I can go and talk to him about our religion, and come back when the day is over. And that can be my job. To bring in a new member."

"How stupid do you think your father is?" James asked. Like a stone in a lake, Elias felt his heart sink. "He would never be okay with that."

“Father will never know," he pushed on. "No one will tell him. Because only you and me know about my friend. Right?"

James frowned. "What's his name?"

_Lie._ He knew he should; he wanted to. Elias said, "Reuben." 

"How old is he?"

"Twenty-two."

"Hm…”

"Only Sister Olivia reports to my father directly," he said. "You can just—just tell her I'm with you all day or something.”

"You want me to lie."

"I want you to protect my truth," he said. "I have never had a proper friend before, James. Not ever, and I finally have one. And I…. I want him to believe in what I believe in. And he's really nice! Please, James."

James said, "Fine. But I have to meet him before you leave with him. I assume you have some way to contact him? Here's my phone." He handed Elias his phone: modern, thin, black. He was moving quickly, as if he were afraid he'd change his own mind if he waited too long. "I guess I'm going to go have a talk with my mom."

"Thank you!" Elias couldn't help himself: he hugged him. "Seriously, James, thank you."

"Don't thank me yet." James pulled away from him. "Elias, this is a fairly big secret to keep. And your father is very, very smart. I won't say anything, you have my word, but that doesn't mean no one will find out about this. About Reuben."

Hearing Reuben's name coming out of someone’s mouth that he's known for all his life was a little surreal. It meant that Reuben was real after all, and not a delusion, not a pipe dream. He was real, and Elias would see him again. "I have to try," he said. He didn't even know, really, what he meant by this.

James seemed to. He started to leave the room. "Tell Reuben to meet us in front of the church."

Elias nodded. "Yes, sir."

***

When James left, Elias dialed Reuben’s number immediately. The phone had no passcode or lock— because that wasn’t allowed—and getting to the dial screen wasn’t that hard. In truth smartphones weren’t foreign to him; his father had one and so did Olivia, and he’d used them a small handful of times.

Reuben answered on the third agonizing ring. “Elias?”

“Reuben,” he said happily, breathlessly. He was grinning ear to ear, he couldn’t help it. He tried to calm himself down, but his heart was racing inside. “I—how are you?”

“I’m fine.” Reuben spoke as if he were smiling, too. Elias could tell. He could hear it.

Elias almost asked him to come over before realizing that Reuben probably had a life. He probably had a job, an appointment, another friend over, even a girlfriend. “Um, are you doing anything?” he asked instead.

“No. Are you?”

“I’m at my church,” Elias told him. “If you want I’d like to meet you here. And we can go and… we can do anything.”

“Meet you?”

“Yes. But—you’ll be meeting someone else too. My friend. His name is James. He can't know that we're… he’s going to think that I’m trying to convert you to the church.”

Reuben was silent for a few moments.

“But I’m not really,” Elias said hurriedly. He glanced around the small room to make sure no one was nearby, listening. Reuben’s silence made him nervous. “I remember what you said. It’s just so that I can go with you.”

“Why can’t you come with me otherwise?” Reuben asked him. “You’re nineteen, right?”

“My family is strict.”

“You said James is your friend, not your family.”

“It’s complicated,” Elias said. “I can’t explain it all right now… but I want to see you again.”

“You know I do, too.”

“Do you know where the Fellowship Center is?”

“I know where everything is,” he said cheekily. “Give me thirty minutes.”

“Thirty?” Elias thought of how long a single workday for Olivia was. Four or five hours, maybe? His silence must have given something away.

“I’ll make it fifteen.”

Elias smiled into the receiver. “Thank you.” Around the corner he could see James making his way back to him. “Goodbye,” he said, and hung up.

James was giving him a weird look. “Are you alright?”

Was he? He didn’t know. He felt like he was a hair’s width away from having his entire life fall apart, because, really, he was. But it would be worth it, even just to see Reuben one more time. To feel normal just for a day—not even that. Just for a few hours. He thought of the pain of the whip, and the pain he’d given himself, and he still decided it would be worth it.

Not that he had any plans to let this secret get out.

“I’m alright,” he assured James. He gave James his phone back. “Just nervous… did you have any friends when you were my age?”

“Of course, but my life was much worse when I was your age." James accepted it. The room they were in was his office, which was a tiny little room large enough to pretty much just fit a desk and a rug. It was official, though; he had a name plaque, and a frosted glass windowed door, and an inspirational poster of a dangling kitten on the wall that said _Hang in there!_ On his desk he had a framed picture of his family: his wife Esme, her daughter by The Father—who must be ten by now?—called Rosa, and a toddler. Elias couldn’t remember the toddler’s name. In the picture, Esme was pregnant. That must have been the baby that miscarried.

Elias was caught up on that. He felt badly for her, but mostly he was caught up in the idea of pregnancy, and that Lillian was to look like Esme did in the picture, someday soon. Because of him. “How was it worse?” he made himself ask.

James followed his line of sight to the framed photo. He reached over and placed it face down. “I didn’t have family,” he said. He was much closer to Elias now. Their eyes locked together, and it was only now that Elias realized that James wasn’t dissimilar in appearance to Reuben. They had similar eyes, and a tall build. Though James was much paler. Elias counted the age difference in years between them. _One, two… eight._ “I went to public school. I didn’t know about God, or the Holy word. You’re nineteen… yeah, I was in a pretty bad place at nineteen.” He looked down. His brows were drawn together. “I’m better now.”

“You don’t seem sure,” Elias said. James brought his gaze back up.

“Esme is the best thing that ever happened to me,” he told him. His eyes were searching, and not nearly as ruthless as his tone. “So is Rosa, so is Natalia. My family is all that matters to me.”

“Sorry.”

“I don’t ever want to hear you doubt that again.”

“James, I’m sorry.”

“I forgive you.” James backed away from him and placed a hand on his shoulder. He smiled. “You’re not going to make me regret this, are you?”

“Regret what?” Elias asked, still stuck on the topic of family.

“Keeping your dirty little secret?”

“It’s not dirty,” Elias argued, but he blushed anyway. “You’ll see.”

“I’ve given you my word that I won’t tell a soul about your Reuben friend,” James said. “Can you give me yours that if it does get out somehow, my name won’t come up?”

“Of course,” Elias said. “ I would never throw you under the bus.”

“Thanks, man.” James patted his shoulder twice, quickly, then pulled a little towards the exit. “Come on, we’ll wait for him outside.”

Outside, the weather was pleasantly warm, though the chilly wind of fall was here. Soon enough snow would be falling, and Elias would be married and expecting. He made sure to stand in the sun rather than the shade to feel the heat on his arms. He should have brought a jacket, or at least worn sleeves, but he didn’t mind the chill.

For the size of the building, the church had a small parking lot, so it was hard to miss the new car pulling into the left side to park. Elias recognized it as the same car he’d been driven home in before. He wanted badly to be inside of it again, to feel like he were in another world, to belong to someone else.

Reuben parked in a spot as close to the two of them as he could, and made his way over casually. His eyes were on Elias’s. Eventually he was standing directly in front of him, not three feet away. “Hi,” he said. He was smiling. Clearly, he was holding himself back.

Elias felt nauseous, but he made himself smile too. “Hi, Reuben.” He gestured to James. “This is James, my—boss? James, this is my friend—“

“I’ve got his name by now, thank you,” James said. He held a hand out, which Reuben shook. “It’s nice to meet you. I look forward to welcoming you to the Movement.”

Reuben’s mouth quirked. “I look forward to being a part of it.”

“You seem like a nice kid.”

“I’m twenty-two.”

“A nice kid,” James repeated. “That’s all I wanted to make sure of. I don’t want him spending time with anyone sketchy.”

“I’m safe as can be,” Reuben assured.

“Good,” James said. He looked at Elias. “Hey, Eli, let me talk with him alone for a second.”

Elias looked between the two of them. His nausea hadn’t lessened. “Okay,” he said. He retreated to Reuben’s car, which seemed far enough away to be respectful. He could barely hear James’s hushed tones, but he’d always been pretty good at reading lips. He sat himself on the curb.

“Listen,” he heard James say to Reuben. “Don’t mess with him.”

“I won’t,” Reuben replied.

“I’m serious. We’re like family here, all of us. And his parents are no joke, especially his dad. If he or anyone finds out that you’re badly influencing him, things will go badly. For me and for you, but for him most of all.”

Reuben stared at him. “He’s an adult,” he said. “With respect, James, he can do whatever he wants.”

“Not under the eyes of God,” James said seriously. “We all have rules to obey.”

“What are his rules?” Reuben asked. “Will he tell me?”

“If you want to learn.”

A few seconds passed between them before James spoke again.

“He can go with you,” James said. Elias’s eyes widened a little in the distance; his heart jumped. He hadn’t realized he’d been waiting for James to change his mind. “Have him back here before three. Every day he goes, no later than three.”

“Alright.”

“Return him like you found him.”

“Of course.”

“Okay.” James took a step backward and turned to speak to Elias directly, his voice slightly raised. “Have fun, Elias. Teach him something new.”

Elias walked swiftly back up to them. His heart was racing—he could really leave? Even with James’s permission it wasn’t until now, seeing Reuben, seeing his car, that he actually thought he’d get to go. “Thank you, James! You have no idea how thankful I am.”

“Yeah, yeah.” James gave him a quick hug. “When you see the Mother tonight, tell her I said hi. And tell the Father that Rosa says hi.” Rosa, after all, was technically Elias’s half-sister.

“I will.”

“God be with you.”

“God be with you.”


	5. Chapter 5

The car hadn't changed since the last time he’d been in it. Elias was too nervous to speak during the drive until the church was completely out of sight. When it was, he quietly said, “Fuck,” which made Reuben bark a laugh.

“He seems okay,” Reuben said.

Elias had his eyes closed to get his bearings. It took him a moment to realize that Reuben meant James. “James is great,” he told him. He was still glancing in the side mirror of the car as if the church might amalgamate from thin air. “Anyone else… wouldn’t have done this for me. Wouldn’t have even considered it. I admired him a lot, when I was a kid.”

“How long have you known each other?”

“I’ve known him basically all my life,” he said. “He and my dad were friends back when my dad was a professor at his university. He actually taught me how to help birth animals. What did he say to you, anyway? Outside just then?” He tried to feign ignorance.

“He said to take care of you.”

Elias crossed his arms. “And will you?”

Reuben didn’t look at him, but he did smile. “Well, I’m going to take you back to my apartment first.”

“And then?”

“We can do whatever you want.”

“I don’t know what I want.” He looked out of the window. They were almost there. He could tell by the houses, and the trees. He sighed. “I want to run away," he said. "I want to go to Germany.”

Reuben laughed. “Why Germany?”

“Don’t laugh at me. I’m learning German,” Elias told him. “ _Ich lerne gern neue Sprachen._ ”

“I can only do Spanish.”

“Oh? _Puedes hablar español conmigo?_ ”

“Ah…” Reuben pinched his fingers together. “ _Solo un poco._ ” Elias laughed at him. “So you know Spanish and German, then? Those are pretty good hidden talents. What else are you good at?”

“I only kind of know German,” Elias told him. “I could speak at you, but I don’t think I could converse with you.”

“Well, that’s good, because I don’t think you’ll be conversing with me in German anytime soon.”

They had arrived. The layouts of the apartment buildings weren’t particularly complicated, but Elias still forgot where Reuben’s was, so he had to be lead there.

“My roommate’s gone again,” Reuben said as he unlocked his door. “I actually asked her to leave just after you called me."

"You didn't have to do that.”

"I know." Reuben shrugged. "But I wanted to. I want to keep you to myself, at least for now." This sent a strange feeling through Elias's stomach and up to his heart. He ignored it. Reuben opened the door for him. "Make yourself comfortable. Actually, let’s go to my room.”

Elias stepped inside. He heard Reuben following after him as he went down the hallway. “Will I ever meet her?" he asked. "Your roommate?”

“Sure.”

“What’s her name?”

“Holland. Holly.” Reuben sat at his desk once they entered his bedroom. The room was noticeably cleaner in the few days since Elias had last seen it. Now that he thought about it, the glimpse he’d gotten of the living room was cleaner too. There weren’t dishes out or trash on the floor, and the clothes had disappeared from the floor too. Reuben must have cleaned specifically with Elias in mind. He fiddled with his guitar. Elias noticed that a tiny alien sticker was on it. “I actually used to date her.”

Elias did not want to hear that. He disliked her already, though she’d done nothing wrong, absolutely nothing. “Used to?”

“It just didn’t work out.” Reuben began playing a plucky tune that Elias didn't recognize. He played thoughtlessly, like he'd known the chords for years now, like he'd known them since he was a child. Elias didn't have any hobbies like this—but surely he did? He couldn't think of one. “We’re _too_ close, almost. It was kind of creepy to kiss her. And we’re not really… sexually compatible.”

Elias wondered about what it must be like to meet someone, and to fall in love with them organically, to be with them for no one else but himself. He wouldn’t ever have that, he knew. Not ever. His destiny was decided, and it was with Lillian. He told himself to be grateful; she was kind, and beautiful, and happy to be engaged to him, so the least he could do was be happy as well. He imagined trying to find someone compatible with him. He didn't know at all what he was like, he realized. Was Lillian not compatible? How could he know?

Reuben had said sexually compatible… Elias didn't think he and Lillian were sexually compatible. He didn't think he could learn to be _compatible_ in that way with her. He thought about Reuben, who had probably had sex many times before, who probably knew exactly what he liked in bed, and how he liked it.

Elias was suddenly aware that he was just standing in front of the door awkwardly, so he moved to sit down on Reuben’s bed. He didn't have a bed frame, just a mattress on the floor, though it was a comfortable one. Did he have sex here?

Reuben's voice pulled him from his reverie. He'd stopped playing the instrument. “Do you want anything to drink?”

Elias sat with his back to the wall and pulled his knees up. "I can't," he said. "I have to be back in four hours. I have to be sober. Besides, it's morning."

"Well, I'll have one." Reuben stood up. "It's not that early."

"Just one?" Elias asked.

"Just one."

"Okay," he said. He was looking into his lap. "Then… me too. Just one."

"You don't have to, Eli," Reuben said. "I don't want to be the one pressuring you. Or influencing you."

"It's okay." Elias smiled up at him. "I want to be influenced."

The two minutes in which Reuben was absent from the room felt more like ages. Elias spent the time focusing on calming down. He was safe here. No one knew where he was or what he was doing. Any semblance of calm only arrived after Reuben returned and he took the first burning sip of a strong mixed drink. This was past the point of no return: he'd officially disobeyed, lied, _and_ sinned. The only way to go was forward.

"What are you thinking about?" Reuben asked him. He sat on the bed next to him. His legs were straight out, his drink in his lap.

"I'm trying to think about nothing," Elias said. "It's not working."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not really." He sipped at his drink. "Tell me about you," he said.

"What about me?"

"Everything that you know about me, I want to know about you."

"Well." Reuben mulled over this. "I know you're religious, but you know I'm not. I know you're probably sheltered. You have strict parents. I don't, not really."

“What are your parents like?”

“My mom is…” Reuben shrugged. "She’s okay. Not mom of the year or anything. And my dad died ages ago."

Elias couldn't imagine having a dead parent. His parents were the foundation of his religion; that is, his entire existence. If his dad were dead, he had no idea what he'd be doing right now. "I'm sorry," he said.

"Don't be. I was just a kid when it happened." Reuben downed the rest of his drink and set it aside. "I have a brother, too. Victor Hill. He's got four years on me."

_Hill_. Elias was stuck on that. Reuben Hill. Elias's own surname was cool, he guessed, but he hated it. It was Flood. To rhyme with _blood_. He liked the sound of Hill better. "Are you guys close?" he asked.

"Sort of," Reuben crossed his arms and looked to the ceiling. "As kids we were really close, but he lives in Miami with his girlfriend now. We text, but we don't see each other. I haven't seen him in person in like three years. Not even for Thanksgiving."

"That's sad," Elias said. "I don't have any siblings. It's always been just me."

"That's more sad." Elias raised his glass to this and took a swig. He'd always wanted a real sister or brother. "I loved Victor growing up," Reuben confided. "I idolized him."

"I sort of did that with James." Elias didn't know why he said this. His cheeks went hot just thinking about it, but he couldn't stop talking. "I admired him. But it was sort of different…"

"Yeah?"

"Well, he wasn't my brother, or even part of my family, so." Elias made himself drink. He was nearing the bottom of his cup. He wondered how Reuben drank his so quickly. The worst part was that he could sort of feel it: a very slight dizziness to his thoughts to pair with the warmth in his chest.

"Eli, do you have a girlfriend?"

Elias choked on his drink and started coughing. He felt Reuben's comforting hand on his shoulder as he leaned to the side to cough, and when he turned back he saw Reuben smiling just a little. Elias was covering his mouth with the back of his hand. "Why?"

"I'm just wondering."

"Well." He righted himself and finished off his drink before continuing. He fiddled with the empty cup when he spoke. "Y-yes, I do. Sort of."

Reuben's smile lessened. Was he not expecting that answer? "Oh."

"Why?"

"Nothing. What's her name?"

Elias didn't want to talk about this. He wanted to steer the conversation anywhere else. He did not want Lillian's name on Reuben's lips. He did not want to have to think about her here. But he hated lying, and he couldn't not answer. "It's Lillian."

"You don't seem too happy about it."

Elias straightened himself up. He'd been visibly uncomfortable? He hated this about himself, how easy he was to read. "I don't want to talk about her."

"Why not?"

"I don't really…" He trailed off.

"Don't really what?" Reuben prompted. "You don't like her? Is she bad to you?"

"It's not that, nothing like that. She's really kind." Elias would hate for someone to think bad of Lillian just because he couldn't do his duty by her. "Can't we talk about something else?"

"No." Reuben looked at him seriously. "Elias, do you think I'm dumb?"

"No, what—"

"I'm pretty observant," Reuben said. "I notice a lot more than you might think. I know you were listening to James when he was talking to me. I know you want to drink because you're probably not allowed to. You're probably not allowed to do much. I don't know the reason why." He turned on the bed to bodily face Elias. "Do _you_ know the reason why?"

"You know why," Elias said defensively. "I'm religious. Everything I do—or don't do—is for God. Lots of people live this way."

Reuben frowned at him. "Why don't you want to talk about your girlfriend?"

"She's not my girlfriend," Elias said, his voice quiet. He looked away from Reuben and looked down instead.

"What?"

"She's more than that." He didn't know why he couldn't say the right words. _She's my fiancée._ "That's why I don't want to talk about her. I have to think about her all the time already at home… I don't want here to be like being home. I just want to be here."

He hated the way Reuben was looking at him. Elias didn't know how to describe it; he looked sad. "Don't look at me like that," Elias said.

"Like what?"

"Like you pity me."

"That's not why I look like this," Reuben said. "I'm just thinking."

"About?"

"I want to do something, but don't hate me for it. Elias," he said. He lifted a hand to Elias's cheek to guide their eyes to each other. "Do you love her?"

Elias was grateful for no real reason that Reuben still hadn't said her name. He was less grateful for being bound, as much as he could be, to the truth. "No," he said. "I don't—I don't think I can."

"Good," Reuben said. He kissed him.

Elias didn't have enough space in his mind for confusion at that moment. All he felt was this: lips on his lips, the warmth of another body, the warmth in his chest, and the dizzying, stomach-churning desire that was struck immediately in him. The kiss was a match that dragged across the surface of his body and lit the fire right at the base of him, at the traitor between his legs. The kiss deepened without thought; Elias melted forward into Reuben, who caught him effortlessly. Reuben's tongue on his, his breath with his, his heart with his. Elias moaned, and even the embarrassing noise didn't snap him out of the trance he'd found himself in.

He went with the motion of the bedsheets. Reuben nudged him and he let himself be pushed back on the bed. The separation of their mouths was nonexistent even during this transition. Elias realized in the midst of it that he loved this—kissing. Even with his dick being the hardest it had ever been, he would be fine with just kissing forever. For the rest of his life. His grave would have to go here, in this spot, on this mattress.

It wasn't until Reuben ground down onto him that he came back to himself. Rapidly desire transformed to fear; the fire from the match withered to darkness and smoke, still equally exhilarating but infinitely more uncertain and full of dread. Elias stopped kissing him. He made pathetic efforts to make himself smaller, to sink into the mattress. He tried to say, "Stop," but he wasn't sure if Reuben heard him. There was something thick and unmoving in his throat.

"What's wrong?" Reuben did a once-over of him swiftly with his eyes, like he might suddenly be injured or ill. When nothing was found they came back to his face, still searching. Elias was flat on his back and Reuben was above him, basically sitting on him, but holding himself away with his palms on the bed.

"I can't," Elias managed.

"You can't or you don't want to?" Reuben asked him.

_Does it matter?_ he wanted to say, but he felt like it was a question he was asking himself. Did it matter? He couldn't think. He was still so hard, but—but he couldn't— 

"What do you want?" Reuben was breathing heavily but he relaxed above him. He was trying to be the calm one, Elias realized, and he felt bad for this. He felt bad that Reuben always had to be the calm one in the face of his panic, his anxiety, his miserableness. "Tell me what you want."

Elias tried to breathe. His father wasn't here. Lillian wasn't here, James wasn't here. No one would ever know.

But it was a sin. God would know. This secret would be too big; Elias would burst from it. If Brother Desmond didn't punish him then God would find another way. He would be punished somehow. One always was.

"I can't say it out loud," he said quietly. Reuben's hands went to his chest. They did nothing but sit there. It was impossible that Reuben couldn't feel Elias's heartbeat racing.

Reuben said nothing. He was waiting patiently for him.

Elias didn't want to have to consider this, to think about this. He wanted to go back to mindless kissing. To feeling in love.

Was this love? Could this be what love was? Is this supposed to be what he felt for Lillian—did Lillian feel this way for him? No one had ever inspired such a feeling in him, not even James back when he'd had a crush on him. Because that had been what that was, wasn't it? A crush…

Could love be wrong?

"I want to be wanted," Elias said heavily. "I want to…" His voice faded.

"Tell me." Reuben brought himself closer.

"You." Elias closed his eyes. "I want you." He opened them to see Reuben smiling at him. "Kiss me," he said.

Reuben did.

These kisses were different in that he felt present for them. Each kiss was pointed: _This is my decision. I want this. This is my kiss._ Reuben brought his clothed dick to Elias's own, and Elias whimpered with—lust, sure, but that word wasn't enough, it was _desire,_ longing, want. "Kiss me," Elias said, and again, and again. "Kiss me."

Lillian's kiss was nothing like this, could never be anything like this. Even the pain from the cuts on his thighs were easy to ignore. Any pain at all was easy to ignore, when Reuben was looking at him like this.

Reuben sat up and removed his own shirt. He wasn't beefy but he was muscular enough to be defined, and his chest hair started and went down, down, disappearing into his jeans. Elias stared at him. He couldn't stop staring; Reuben was beautiful. He felt slight in comparison. "You're staring," Reuben pointed out.

Elias felt tense with just how turned on he was. His eyes were lidded, he was breathing heavy. In truth, he had never came on purpose before. He'd never touched himself. He'd been encouraged to, of course, from a very young age even, but he'd never been comfortable enough with what he was attracted to to ever try. This was the first time he'd ever been this close to orgasm while being awake and conscious for it, and it was also the first time he'd ever been touched like this. "I…"

Reuben cut him off by leaning forward and licking into his mouth. It started happening before he could stop it—his entire body tensed and he made some kind of noise into Reuben's mouth as he came, a wildly pleasurable sensation that shut down everything else: every worry, every anxiety, all gone for a few precious seconds. Complete bliss. He was really breathing heavy now. He hadn't noticed that Reuben had pulled away from him, or that he'd squeezed his eyes shut. When he reopened them Reuben was looking at his lap. A rush of humiliation went through him. "Sorry—" he started.

"Dude, it's fine." Reuben had a twinkle in his eye and a new confidence to his movements. "I mean, are you fine?"

"Yeah."

"Can I take off your pants?"

Elias blinked and, forgetting his wounds, nodded.

Reuben removed his own pants after removing Elias's for him. Having someone else's hands on the button to his pants had, in a way, felt like the most intimate thing he'd done so far, but of course it wasn't. He was still coming down from the high of coming in the arms of his friend, in the arms of a _boy_ — 

Reuben came back to the mattress in his underwear. Elias could see it clearly now, just how hard he was. It was tenting the fabric. There was a wet spot at the tip. Elias fixated on it, even as Reuben sat down in front of him and placed his hands on Elias's sides. "Can I take these off, too?"

Elias exhaled. "Are you going to take off yours?"

Reuben smirked. "Do you want me to?"

"I want to." He held Reuben's hands to his side as he maneuvered to his knees. "I want to see you."

"Give me your hands." Reuben mirrored Elias's position and came closer to him so that they were so close, less than a foot apart. He took one of Elias's hands and placed it on his hard-on, and then placed them both at his boxers in the position to pull it down. "See me, then," he said.

Elias had to make the move, it had to be his decision. At this point he was already starting to get hard again. He could feel the telltale twitch. He gripped his fingers and pulled the waistband down to set Reuben's member free. It stood nearly straight up against his stomach, but leaned to the left a bit. Elias fixated on it. He tried to imagine a single instance where he'd seen, up close, a dick that wasn't his. He couldn’t.

"Look what you've done to me." Reuben put a hand to the back of Elias's neck. "I'm surprised I haven't come yet, either. It's been ages."

"I want to see that." Elias, at least in this moment, had never wanted anything more. Tentatively he brought his hand to Reuben there, and then he held it more confidently when Reuben clearly had no issue with it. At the touch Reuben had put his head back, his eyes going closed.

Elias liked it. He liked the way it felt in his hands: solid, pulsing. Reuben was uncircumcised, and this fascinated him, too. He stroked him to watch the foreskin move as much as to make him feel good. Reuben dropped gracefully to the bed and Elias followed him there, still stroking. He was hard again. "Do you like it?"

"I love it," Reuben said without missing a beat. He'd thrown his arm over his face. "I love you."

Elias paused. Reuben froze too. After a few moments, he sat up to face Elias. "Sorry," he said.

"Don't be." Elias resumed his ministrations by using his thumb to rub circles on the tip. Reuben's face had gone pink and he was watching Elias's hands with lidded eyes.

"You're wanted." Reuben was breathing heavier. "I want you—ah—to know that. That's what you wanted, and you are. By me, more than anything." He fell back onto his back. He was humping into Elias's hand. "I feel crazy. I'm— _ah_ —so happy you called me. I didn't know what to think when I met you. I still don't know what to think."

Elias didn't know what to say. "I don't know what love is."

Reuben laughed, probably at the absurdity of the topic. He was still fucking into Elias's hand. "Let me teach you."

That's what Lillian had said. Something like that. Something about tenderness. Elias stopped thinking about her.

He leaned forward to be the one on top of Reuben, to kiss him first. His dick poked Reuben's thigh through his underwear that he’d never taken off, and it occurred to him to try something—he pulled himself out and positioned them so that he could hold them both together. As Reuben humped upward he could feel the slide of his dick on his own, and it made them both moan in unison. Elias could think of no one more tender than Reuben.

"I change my mind," Elias said. He didn't have the energy to kiss Reuben _and_ frot against him, so he let his head rest on the bed. He spoke directly into Reuben's ear.

"About what?"

"What I said before. About wishing I'd died." He shook his head in the sheets. "I don't. I don't."

"Good."

"I'm serious," Elias said.

"I know," Reuben replied. He pulled Elias's head up and kissed him chastely, and then open-mouthed, hot and heavy. "I want to come."

Elias pulled away from him to sit on his thighs. He stared at both of their dicks pressed together as he did his best to jerk them both off. He wanted to see it too, he wanted to— 

Reuben's head dropped to the bed and he covered his face with his hand as he groaned. His abs tensed, and so did the muscles of his thighs just underneath Elias as he came. The sight of it all—tensed muscles, Reuben's underarm hair, his pubic hair getting come in it—sent Elias over the edge too, his second orgasm dribbling out of him, less forceful than the first.

He felt spent immediately afterwards, but he was reluctant to squish the fluids between them by collapsing on top of Reuben. He laid backward instead, falling onto the pillow.

They both just breathed for a minute. In, out.

"I never want to leave," Elias said eventually.

"I still don't get why you have to."

"I dislike that I'm sheltered, I guess, but I don't…" He watched mildly as Reuben used his shirt to wipe himself off, and then wipe Elias off. "I don't hate my family. I don't hate my religion, or the other people in it. I love them. That's why I can't leave. I have to do right by them."

Reuben hummed his acknowledgement and tossed the t-shirt to the side. He crawled up to lay beside Elias so that he was nearly on top of him. Elias turned toward him to cuddle. Reuben's hand came to the bend in his knee to pull Elias’s leg up and over him. His fingers trailed upward, beneath the fabric of his underwear to his thigh, and—"Hey, what's this?"

Filled with humiliation, Elias pulled back, it was too late. Reuben had already seen the scars there, had felt them. How fresh they still were. Elias suddenly hated himself. He couldn't believe how stupid he was—how could he forget to protect this, his very special secret? The one between him and God, only.

"What is this, Eli?"

"Nothing," he said. What could he say? He absolutely would not tell Reuben that the severe cuts were done _to_ him, as punishment.

"Who did this?"

"I did," Elias told him. This was technically the truth. "Please, Reuben, I'm in a good mood, I don't want to talk about it—"

"Eli…"

"It helps," Elias said. "It helps me. It keeps me from bridges and ropes."

"That's not funny."

"I'm not being funny." He frowned. "I'll stop. I will. I’ve only done it once. It doesn’t matter to me.”

"Don't lie to me," Reuben said quietly. His hand came up to Elias's cheek and held him there. Then it went to mirror its action from before, bringing Elias’s leg to rest over his body. His hands over the scars were gentle. “Not to me.”

Elias closed his eyes and leaned into the gestures. He wanted to hide. "I'll try to stop."

"Promise me."

"I promise."

"Okay." Lying like this, their dicks were touching intimately, but non-sexually. This, too, felt like love.

"What time is it?" Elias asked him.

"One-thirty."

"Mm," he said. They didn't have very long together. "I'll see you again." He felt peace in saying this. In knowing it was the truth, unlike the last time.

"God willing."


	6. Chapter 6

The drive back to church was a dreaded one, but even so, it was better than the last time. Before this, they had simply spent the remainder of their time together lying with each other. Neither of them spoke much. It was enough to just be.

“How long have you known?” Elias had asked eventually in the bed, breaking the silence.

“About what?”

“You know,” he said. “That you were… perverted.”

“It’s not perverted to be gay,” Reuben said to him.

Elias had frowned. Of course it was. But he said nothing.

“Since middle school,” Reuben answered, in spite of his silence. “It was pretty easy for me to figure out. What about you?”

Elias thought of James. They had been spectacularly close, but still, Elias had never cottoned onto his own feelings. Separate from James, Elias had came to terms with his condition on his own. He’d answered the questions about why he never enjoyed the company of naked women a few years ago: he liked men. Discovering this had at once been a relief—he finally figured it out, his lack of attraction had been bothering him for so long—and a burden.

He’d suppressed his feelings, of course. He told no one. He didn’t let himself think about it, or fantasize. He never masturbated. He just ignored it. But he’d known.

He realized Reuben was still waiting for him to speak. “Since I was sixteen,” he answered.

He didn’t want to go on, and Reuben didn’t push him.

***

“How was the lesson?”

James met them behind the church rather than out front since Olivia and his sisters were speaking there. James was looking at Reuben oddly, but Reuben seemed to have no problems lying.

“I learned a lot,” he said. “Really, it’s a wonderful thing that you guys have going here.”

“You oughta join us for a sermon some Sunday.”

“I’ll try and see if I can make it.”

“Very well then.” James nodded to Elias. “Say your goodbyes, Eli. I’ll see you up front. Mom will drive you back home, alright?”

“Alright.” When they were alone, Reuben leaned in to kiss him and he stepped back. Just the thought of doing that sent a hot shot of fear through him. “We can’t!” he whisper-shouted, scandalized.

“Can’t we?”

“Not here.” Kissing a boy on church grounds… the guilt would eat him alive until he either caved and confessed or really did kill himself. He held out his hand awkwardly. “I’ll see you.”

“I’m not shaking your fucking hand.” Reuben pulled him in for a tight hug. Elias smiled in spite of himself.

“Tomorrow, same time? Do you have plans?” he asked. Elias imagined that Reuben must have some sort of job. Some sort of life outside of romancing suicidal religious boys.

“I’m really a night owl, not a morning person,” Reuben said. “So I have night shifts. I’m an overnight cashier at a gas station, it’s nothing special. I’m not really doing much with my life, if you can’t tell.”

“Then don’t you need sleep?”

“I can just sleep with you.”

Elias blushed. “Okay.”

“Goodbye, then. Give me a call.”

He couldn’t watch Reuben leave because Reuben was parked very conspicuously up front, but he would be smart enough to think of something to say if anyone confronted him. Elias let himself into the back door.

On his way to the front, he passed by James’s office. He let himself duck inside. He didn’t know why. He thought he might write a little thank you letter, or doodle, so he started looking for a spare piece of paper, which you’d think wouldn’t be hard to find in an office. Elias poked at stray journals and binders. He opened a drawer in the desk, and then the one beneath that. In it there was an envelope that felt a little heavy so, unthinking, Elias opened it.

Inside, there were pictures. Dozens and dozens of them. Pictures of young children, as young as five. Elias dropped the envelope in his surprise, and to his fret the pictures scattered all over the floor.

The door opened.

James stood in the open doorway. He stared at Elias, and then at the mess on the floor, and back up. Elias was frozen.

In sudden, decisive movements James came in, shut and locked the door behind him, and pressed Elias against the wall hard. It happened too quickly for Elias to do anything.

“You were snooping?” he questioned.

“No—” But he was, wasn’t he? “I was just going to leave you a note.”

“And now look what you’ve found.”

“Why do you have these?” Elias asked.

“Why do you think? Use your head.”

“But—that’s disgusting—“

James barked a laugh. “And your perversion isn’t disgusting? What, you think I didn’t know that you just want to go with Reuben so he can rut you into the ground?”

“That’s not it at all!”

“Listen,” James said. “A secret for a secret. I’ll keep yours if you keep mine.”

“You swore to keep yours anyway,” Elias pointed out. "You gave me your word—"

“A secret for a secret, Eli.”

Elias glanced to the photographs that littered the ground. They mostly featured little girls, but there were a few boys. But James had never touched Elias… He glanced to the family photo on the desk, of the two girls there in it. Rosa and Natalia. Had he touched them? How deep did this fetish go, and how far back? Was he touching them now? He thought of turning fifteen, and never seeing James again, and felt sick.

Regardless… Elias had to see Reuben again. He had promised. So, “Okay,” he said.

James let him go. He pointed to the ground, where the scattered photographs were. “Pick them up,” he said.

Elias picked them up.

“Now put them back.”

He put them back.


	7. Chapter 7

In the days following, neither he nor James brought the pictures in the folder back up again. They were a constant elephant in the room whenever they were around each other, but they stayed silent. Elias chose not to think about what keeping this particular secret meant.

To his knowledge, Olivia had no suspicions on what he did everyday or how he spent his time with James. This was a little funny to him considering how assertively she’d stated that she’d never let him out of her sight to his father. Did she know that she was lying to him then, when she said it? Was that what her wink was about? Or is she simply forgetful? She thought Elias was just using the time to study. Study the bible, the sermons, the religious texts. She thought it was an excuse for him to get out of the house. She had no idea that he ever even left the church on these outings. This wasn’t an issue because, really, she never came by to see him. At least, not according to James.

When his father wanted updates, she gave vague but confident answers. “He’s an excellent student,” she’d say. “He gets along well. He works with James a lot! You have a very bright son.” These kinds of comments wouldn’t hold up to very much scrutiny if his father pried further, but he seemed preoccupied with something else these days anyway. He was always very busy.

Each day, Elias would get up along with everyone else and commune for breakfast. He was usually on dish duty afterward. When Olivia left, so did he. She usually stopped by her daughters’ houses on the way and they all arrived at the church together. Diana and Grace were in and out, running errands and meeting up with others, Elias wasn’t really sure what they did, but Olivia always stayed inside. She had her own office not too far from James’s. Elias had only ever been inside of it twice before. It was pretty big, second in size only to his father’s office, which was one of the largest ones in the building.

The church itself was not very big, but Elias loved it. He always had. It was a brown brick building in the general shape of a large rectangle with two smaller, square-sized wings on either side. When you stepped inside you were met with a small entryway that held the bathroom and a water fountain area. Past this there was the main room. This room was lined with two columns of pews that stretched all the way to the front where the stage was. On the stage, of course, was the podium, with a backdrop of a few classical paintings. At the very top of those was a mosaic of Jesus. This art sort of stretched into the sides of the building, where the mosaics were more impressive. It was a beautiful sight to see, especially when one was inside of it alone. This was one of Elias’s favorite parts of coming here outside of church hours.

On one side of the building, after you went through the door, there were the offices of the Father and the Brother. Desmond had his own office, for some reason, despite not ever spending time in it. A ways down the hallway was the daycare room where kids were taken care of during church, usually by one or both of Olivia’s daughters. All children were kept here, aged zero to fifteen. Once they turned sixteen, they were old enough to sit through the sermons. In the daycare room there was a television that played previous historic sermons by Elias’s father’s father: Peter Flood, the founder. On special days, they would set up a way to watch his father preach live—days like Easter, or during special ceremonies.

One such special ceremony might be a woman or manhood ceremony. This would be where a girl or a boy, upon coming of age, would cement their position as an adult by having relations with the Mother or the Father on stage. It was never a very long proceeding, usually only twenty minutes or less. Sometimes there were several a day. Girls, if they were lucky, would be bred by this procedure. A live feed of this would play for the children in the daycare room, but things were pretty lax in that room. It wasn’t a requirement to watch for them. Elias certainly never did, when he stayed in there.

He never had to go through this ceremony, as that would be incest. Lillian, too, never had to go through this ceremony, because she’d been promised to him already by that time, and she had to remain pure. In theory, should his father die, Elias would be the one to take his place for things like these and so much else, but he chose never to think about that.

Also on this side of the building was the confession room. On the other side of the building were everyone else’s offices: James, Olivia, and her daughters. There was a spare office that would presumably become his someday. He would have it by now but he technically wasn’t an adult, because he had not had sex yet. Well—sex with his betrothed.

Thinking of this, Elias blushed. He was with Reuben now. They were lying together on Reuben’s couch, their heads at opposite ends and legs tangled together. Reuben was shirtless and pantless, clad only in his checkered boxer briefs. Elias had his boxers and his shirt on. He didn’t like to take his underwear off, even when they were intimate. He was constantly aware of his scars now, new and old; he never wanted Reuben to see them again.

Reuben was smoking. Even with the balcony door open it smelled strongly. It smelled illicit more than anything else, and so Elias liked it. He liked the way Reuben’s eyes got sort of pink and his smile got extra wide. He liked the feeling that he was doing something bad by smelling it, by advocating it. He should be good and tell Reuben to quit it, or at least not to do it around him, not tempt him, but he couldn’t. Wouldn’t. Reuben wasn’t his to control, or judge.

But it did tempt him. Reuben offered the—what did he call it, a joint?—several times, but Elias refused. It was already pretty late in the day when Reuben started smoking, and he didn’t want to come home off his head.

Another time he might try it. He hadn’t even learned what marijuana was until today.

“Would you rather…”

Oh, and they were playing this game.

“Eat a wasp,” Reuben said slowly, “or… eat one of the animals on your farm? Like, that you’re not supposed to eat. A goat, or something.”

“People eat goats,” Elias told him, weirdly endeared by this question. “But we don’t have goats. We only keep animals that we eat—we don’t eat anything that we don’t raise, or grow. So this is a silly question.”

“I should make you eat a wasp,” Reuben huffed.

“I’d spit it into your mouth.”

He laughed. His laughs were a lot wilder and more infectious when he was high, a deeply pleasant sound. _Ha ha ha!_ “Fine,” he said. “I’ll eat your insect spit if I have to. Your turn.”

“Um…” Elias was spectacularly bad at coming up with these, especially when he was sober. He’d chosen to be sober today on account of having an egregious amount of work to do when he got home, and most of it would have to be done before sundown. “Would you rather… kiss _me_? Or have _me_ kiss _you_?”

Reuben set his joint in a tray on the coffee table. He took this opportunity to rearrange himself on the couch so that he was laying on top of Elias. “This is a hard question.” He dipped to kiss Elias once, chastely. “Because I like to kiss you.” He kissed him on his neck. “But I think I like it when you kiss me more.” Said against skin.

“Yeah?” Elias felt hot under his shirt. “Why?”

“I dunno.” Reuben brought his face back up to meet his eyes. “It means more. It means you want to.”

“I want every kiss you’ve ever given me,” Elias said truthfully. “But—here.” He leaned to kiss Reuben. Both of their lips parted when they met each other. Reuben tasted like weed, from his breath to his tongue, but Elias didn’t mind. All the smoke did make him pull back to cough, though. “Sorry,” he said.

“Hey, it’s my fault.” Reuben reached for his joint and took a drag on it, eyes closed. He exhaled the smoke to the side and brought it back up to hold it between them. Elias tried to look stern. Reuben only raised an eyebrow. “Just a drag?” he said. This was new terminology for Elias, new territory. He would feel stupid to say such a phrase out loud. Like it wouldn’t fit his lips, an alien language in English tongue.

He acquiesced by simply opening his mouth, and Reuben placed it there. He instructed him to inhale, told him to stop. Elias coughed the smoke out, right into his face, and he laughed. He held the joint away from them while Elias recovered. “How did it feel?” he asked.

“Like something got in my lungs.” Elias wiped his mouth off, but the taste was still there. There was a small burning in his chest, but it didn’t feel bad. “It’s your turn. With would you rather.”

Reuben hummed in thought. He was sitting up on Elias now. He seemed to like doing this, sitting on him. Elias always found the image funny, because Reuben, simply put, was just bigger than he was. But he liked the feeling of being sat on; it made him feel present, grounded. It also sort of put Reuben’s dick on display. “Would you rather,” Reuben started. “Meet my mom? Or have me meet your parents?”

Elias started speaking, stopped, started, and stopped again. He definitely never wanted the latter to happen, ever. Reuben… meeting his mother and father… that would ruin everything. Everything. He asked silently for another drag with his hands. After he took one—and successfully didn’t cough this time, despite the burning being much stronger—he promised himself no more, and spoke. “The first.”

“Warning you here, then,” Reuben told him. “You won’t be very impressed.”

“You don’t want to meet mine.”

“Why not?”

“Well, first they’d kill me, for knowing you,” Elias said. “And then after that they’d kill you, for—all of it. Just everything you’ve done.”

Reuben laughed, like he was joking. “What if I tell them I saved your life?”

“Didn’t you just hear what I said? I’m already dead by the time they get to _you_.”

Reuben rolled his eyes. He retired to his earlier position of lying on the other side of the couch by leaning back. Though now his knees were spread on either side of Elias. “That’s fine. I don’t mind. You’re probably right, anyway.” He took a drag. The joint was nearly gone by now. “I don’t think I’d like them.”

He dismissed the bud to the tray and threw his head back on the arm of the couch. He closed his eyes. “It’s your turn.”

Elias thought. He felt a little hurt by the comment about his parents, even though it would probably be true. Reuben wouldn’t like his father. But he might like his mother? Elias loved her. He certainly felt more comfortable being himself around her. This was a fruitless train of thought, though—their paths would never cross.

He thought instead of Reuben mentioning his past relationship with his roommate, Holly. “Would you rather…” he still couldn't say it out loud, “with a girl? Or with a—a boy?” He could feel his face get hot.

“Have sex?” He could also see Reuben frown. He’d opened his eyes. They were pretty red, but they had that observance to them, like he was thinking about something deeper than the situation called for. “What do you think?” he asked Elias.

Elias shrugged. “Well, I don’t know—“

“Neither,” Reuben told him. “I don’t want a boy or a girl. I just want you.”

Elias crossed his arms. “That’s—flattering, but—you know what I meant.”

“Apparently I don’t,” Reuben said. “I thought I answered honestly.”

“What do you like better?” Elias clarified.

“I don’t fantasize about either anymore,” Reuben told him. “Just you.”

Elias was still unsatisfied with this answer, but the romantic in him did get distracted by this new information. “You fantasize about me?”

Despite the time that had passed—a couple weeks—the two of them hadn’t _technically_ had real sex yet. They did get off together, but Elias had never… had never put his mouth on Reuben. And he’d never gone further than that. He wasn’t positive on what could be done further than that. He didn’t know how penetration would work, with a man. He never brought it up because he was too scared to try, and Reuben never pushed him to go that far. Elias was thankful; at least for now, frotting and handjobs were just as intense as anything else he could think of doing.

And Reuben was patient with him, but he apparently fantasized. “Of course I do.”

“What do I do?” Elias asked him. “In your fantasies?”

“That's a loaded question.”

“I want to know!”

“Well.” Reuben closed his eyes again. His hand went to the front of his underwear to feel himself there. Elias could see the tent growing. “You’re in my room, usually,” he said. “You’re on my bed. You’re naked… it changes, what you do.”

“Tell me,” Elias said.

Reuben continued. “You’re always hard. If you’re not, I get you there. Sometimes you ride me. Sometimes you bend over and ask me to fuck you.”

“I’m very brazen in your fantasies,” Elias said. He tried to imagine himself confident enough to request fucking. He couldn’t even imagine what that—being fucked—would feel like.

“I’m just paraphrasing,” Reuben said.

Elias laughed. He sat up to replace Reuben’s hand with his own. “I can be brazen,” he said, feeling dangerous. He could feel that he was high: everything was that little bit lighter.

“Oh yeah?”

Elias smiled. “I like yours.” He neatly pulled Reuben’s underwear down just enough to reveal it, the erection there. “Root and stem.” He grasped both, to prove his point. Reuben gasped slightly, and laughed softly. Elias stroked him with just his fingertips, featherlight touches.

“Can I…” He met Reuben’s eyes. “Can I put my mouth on it?”

He didn’t know where the question came from. He just wanted to. He wanted to feel the little twitches that it would give as it grew in his mouth, against his tongue.

“Hell yes, dude,” Reuben said, moving his hips subtly. His voice was higher in octave; he must not have been expecting the question. He lowered it. “I mean, of course. Obviously.” 

Elias nodded and repositioned himself so that it would be more comfortable.

"And you can say the word, you know," Reuben continued.

"The word?"

"Dick, cock, whatever you want to call it." He was steady watching Elias, who hadn't put his mouth on it yet.

"You keep wanting me to say dirty words."

Reuben smiled cheekily. "Yes, and?"

Elias grinned back. He held his lips tightly together, considering. "Well then." His cheeks were already hot with the words as he thought them, just before they left his mouth. "I want to suck your cock." He felt Reuben twitch in his grip. Reuben nodded, giving him silent permission, and Elias—stupidly, and suddenly—realized that he didn't know how to even begin to do this. He started, and it didn't really taste like anything—like skin, like boy. He could hear Reuben make a small noise above him, which motivated him.

He wanted it in his mouth, so he put it there. Reuben unthinkingly humped upward, so Elias used his hands to ground his thighs to the couch and hold him there. Reuben's own hands came up to mess his hair.

"I love your hair," Reuben said as he ran his fingers through it. Elias didn't see why; it was boringly blond, not in any crisp or bright way but instead dull and dirty, a few shades shy of just being brown. He also needed a haircut. Elias didn't pull himself away to say any of this, of course—he'd rather die first.

Elias found a rhythm with it. He moved until his jaw ached, until Reuben was breathing heavily above him. After a few minutes Reuben pulled him off, trying to warn him, but he was already coming. Elias closed his eyes, but he felt it land on his lips, on his cheek, on his nose.

"Holy fuck," Reuben was saying. "Holy shit, Eli—"

Elias was short circuiting a little bit. He brought a finger to his cheek to absentmindedly wipe off a bit of it, and then stuck his finger in his mouth. It didn't taste very good. "Come here," Reuben said softly, tenderly, and he pulled Elias up to meet his lips. Elias gasped into his mouth.

"You'll get it on you," he said in a rush. It was already too late, though. Reuben's face was nearly as messy as his. Reuben leaned in to lick his nose.

"I don't really care," he said. "I'd rather be covered in yours, though." Elias must have made a scandalized expression, because Reuben laughed at him. “Sit,” he ordered, and stood up.

Elias obeyed. He watched Reuben grab his shirt from the floor nearby. He wiped Elias’s face for him with it, and then cleaned himself off before pulling his underwear back up to cover himself. He tossed the shirt aside.

Then he got to his knees on the floor in front of Elias. “What—?” Elias said.

“Let me suck you off?” Reuben’s hands came up to his inner thighs and massaged him there softly. It almost tickled. Elias let out a breath. "It's only fair."

"You don't have to—"

"You're out of your mind if you think I don't want to suck your dick, Eli."

He felt himself harden. "Okay," he said. He licked his lips. "Yeah, okay."

Reuben touched him briefly over his boxers, enough to feel the outline of him, before pulling them down enough to reveal him. Elias's face was on fire. He fought to keep his hands from covering it. Instead he held them in fists at either of his sides. Reuben was gentle but sure with his movements: he stroked him with soft hands, met his eyes, and worked his tongue on him.

Elias threw his head back in pleasure when Reuben took all of him in. It was life-changing, he thought, to feel this. He spread his legs wider and twitched into Reuben's mouth. When he opened his eyes he met Reuben's gaze again, and that—that look there, made him elicit a noise that only made his face more hot. " _Reuben_ ," he moaned.

Reuben smiled around him. "Mm?" His attempt at speech sent vibrations around Elias's cock. His hands finally left their fists and came to Reuben's hair, which Reuben seemed to agree with.

Elias still wasn't very good at lasting. A few minutes of this and he was close already. "Reuben, I—"

Reuben nodded his assent, and Elias came into his mouth. He watched Reuben swallow and collapsed backwards into the couch, limbs feeling like jelly. Reuben pulled off and lapped at him as he went soft until the oversensitivity was too much. "Reuben," he said. "Come here."

"I'm here." Reuben stood and leaned over him.

"Kiss me."

Reuben did.

That's when he heard the door unlocking. Reuben pulled Elias's boxers back over his dick for him and said, "Hello, Holly," when the door opened.

All sense of jelliness left Elias as quickly as it had came: he was tense now, all over.

"Ben," he heard her say in greeting. "You look pretty pleased, don't you. Is he here?"

How much did she know? Eli closed his eyes, took one quick, deep breath, and stood up. He felt awkward, being only in his boxers and a t-shirt, but at least they weren't sticky boxers? "Hi," he said brightly. She kicked the door shut behind her; her arms were holding several bags of groceries.

"This is Elias," Reuben said.

She set her bags down on the kitchen counters and walked over to them. She was shorter than both of them. She had darker skin than Reuben's, and her hair was curly and cascading. When she smiled, she had dimples on both cheeks. "Infamous Elias," she said.

"What has he told you?"

"Don't worry, not much," she told him, which he suspected wasn't true. "You're way cuter than I thought you'd be, though. I assume he's gone on and on about me."

"No," he assured. "And… thank you."

"Now that Holly has met Eli, and Eli has met Holly, Reuben thinks Holly should leave again," Reuben told her.

"I have to go, anyway," Elias told him.

Holly frowned. "Don't let me drive you away."

"It's not you," he promised her. "I had to be going anyway." It was nearly two-thirty.

"Well, I hope I get to see you again!"

Elias smiled. "Of course."

In the car, Elias was still smiling. He had to admit that he liked this part. Going out, getting into the car, listening to Reuben's music, enjoying the AC. It made him feel normal. Reuben listened to stuff he'd certainly never heard of, a lot of it leaning heavy on the guitar. "I'm glad I met Holly," Elias said.

"Me too."

"And I'm glad I…" He fidgeted with his hands. "That I got to do that. With you. No one's ever touched me like that."

"Thank you for letting me." Reuben brought both hands to the wheel, which he only did when he was nervous. "I know that it's a bigger deal for you than for me." For some reason this made Elias flush with shame, but he tried to ignore it. “Meaning, I know that it has bigger consequences for you than me."

"I don't really…"

"Elias," Reuben said. "What are your consequences?"

He shook his head. "Nothing," he told him. "Don't worry about it."

"No, Eli, I wanna know," Reuben said. "If you're in any danger at all, I need to know about it. I won't let anything happen to you."

"I don't want to talk about this."

"That can't be your solution to everything, you know."

Elias closed his eyes. "If nobody knows," he said, "then nothing happens. So just." He opened them again. The world was moving so fast around them, but it was easier to stare straight ahead than to meet Reuben's eyes. "Don't let anyone know."

"Promise me that you will tell me."

"What?"

"If you're unsafe. That you'll tell me," Reuben said. "If I'm not with you, promise me that you'll find a phone, and you'll call me. I don't care what I'm doing. I'll come and help you."

Elias's smile was sad. He liked to think that whatever thing they had going here burned brightly enough to overcome whatever his father might throw at him. But that was impossible to think. Reuben would never be more powerful than his father. Hell, Reuben wouldn't compare even to Brother Desmond. Elias realized suddenly that if he were caught, really caught, then he could possibly be damning Reuben. Guilt hit him like a truck. "You're very sweet," he said quietly.

"Promise me, Eli."

"I promise."


	8. Chapter 8

Every time he returned home, he always had a lot of work to do, and not a lot of time to do it, because he hated working after sundown. The farm still spooked him a little when it was dark out, because there weren't a lot of lights and the fields seemed so vast and endless.

Lillian, when she visited, didn’t really help him in the chicken coop so much as play with the chickens. This did help him, in a way, at least. It was always nice to have them distracted while he combed through their nests for eggs, rather than consistently almost stepping on them.

Seeing Lillian, after seeing Reuben, after _doing_ things with Reuben, only served to make Elias feel more guilt. Especially that first time seeing each other after Elias had sworn to her that they would mess around together the next time they saw each other.

She had come over to help his mother with dinner, so her and her family were already present when he got back in the late afternoon. They were to stay overnight. He could still feel the pleasure of Reuben's dick against his own from earlier in the day, could still feel the affection enveloping his entire heart, shadowing everything else. Even when he saw her and she stepped forward and kissed him, he only felt a little bit guilty, still too entranced by how much better Reuben's kisses were. "You seem so happy!" Both Lillian and his mother had made this comment that day.

It wasn't until later, when the house was asleep and Lillian was sleeping in his room, in his bed, that she rolled over to him. That she kissed him. She was attempting to kiss him passionately. She threw a leg over him. She wore only a short, loose dress to bed, and she was practically on top of him. It was then that he felt something other than joy really settle in again. "Stop," he gasped to her, in-between kisses.

"No," Lillian said, but she technically did stop kissing him. "You can't put me off anymore, Elias!" She was shouting at him in a hushed tone. "I need this."

"Lillian—"

"I was thinking." She was still whispering, even though he hadn't been. Her hand snaked its way into his underwear and wrapped around him there. He hated how much ownership she felt she had over his body. "About our baby. Girl or boy. I was thinking about names."

"Ngh, please." He was shaking his head, and writhing a little. He felt like one of the lizards they used to catch outside together when they were kids, trapped in her grip.

"I like flower names," she went on as she stroked him, "Iris, or something similar. Do you have any ideas?" He was still shaking his head. "That's okay," she said. "We have time. Relax, Elias. Please? I'm not even hurting you. I want to love you. I don't know what you want me to do." Her voice was desperate. She sounded like she might cry.

"I'm sorry," he told her, sincerely.

"Everyone knows how you are." For a second he felt icy with fear— _They know? Who knows?_ —until she clarified. "You don't like sex. I wondered if there might have been trauma…?"

"No."

"Well, I want to help you." She was still trying to stroke him. He wasn't remotely hard. "There's so much pressure, Eli. I know you feel it, probably more than me, but I feel it too! There's so much. We have to please everyone. Someday we have to lead everyone."

"I know."

"So just try." Said more forcefully. "Close your eyes, Elias, okay? I'm going to make you come. Try for me."

He wasn't crying, and he wasn't going to, but he wished that he would, because that might be the only thing that would get her off of him. He would really be a pariah, then.

No. He closed his eyes. Because she was right, after all; he owed this to her. He had to keep his word, he had to do right by her, because his fun with Reuben was never going to last. So, eyes closed, he tried to feel pleasure from this situation. He couldn't with her above him like this, so he imagined that it simply wasn't her. He imagined Reuben above him instead. It was a stretch, because Reuben was heavier, and smelled different, and Reuben would never be _here_ , in his home, in his bedroom, but it worked. Elias heard Lillian make a small noise when he got hard. He quickly took that noise and transformed it in his head to Reuben's familiar moan, to which he made his own sound in reply.

She did, eventually, get what she wanted from him that night.

Now, in the chicken coop together, their dynamic had changed. She was pleased with herself ever since then, pleased that she wasn't useless after all, pleased to have seen Elias in a way that—to her knowledge—no one else had seen him like before. She was more confident with him.

Elias, in turn, was thoroughly afraid of her.

He knew that he should talk about it. Tell someone how he felt. Maybe something could be worked out. But the only person he would consider confiding in was Reuben, and he was too scared to admit to Reuben that he had let someone else touch him sexually. Reuben would be angry with him, and Reuben had never been properly angry with him before. Elias didn't want to see it happen.

Nearly three weeks had passed with the steady rhythm of of seeing Reuben almost every day. The only days they didn't see each other was the weekend, because Sister Olivia didn't work on Saturdays, and Sundays were for church.

Autumn was well underway. The trees slowly but surely turned a beautiful array of red and orange. Leaves littered the fields where the animals stayed, and Elias raked them up. Lillian followed him around.

"I discuss our wedding with The Father instead of you, you know," she said. "Which is a shame. His words, not mine."

"You 'discuss?'" he asked her, mostly to be polite.

"Yes. Things like venue, invitations…"

"The venue is the Center. The church is invited," he said to her. They had both gotten a little tart with each other. "What's there to discuss?"

He could feel her staring into his back. “Decorations. Food. Vows." She paused. "Sex."

He winced at the word.

"Yes, sex. Intercourse, relations. He's very polite, but he doesn't mince words. He likes to know what we've done together. I can't tell you how many times he's asked me if I'm pregnant. I imagine he'd actually be scared to ask if it weren't for the fact that he knows how you feel about sex. I think he's just asking for formality's sake."

"What do you tell him?"

"The truth?" She crossed her arms. "'We kiss plenty. I jerked you off once. You've never been inside me.'"

Elias turned to her. "And what does he say?"

She shrugged. "' _Be patient._ '"

They stared at each other. The sun was on its way down, casting an orange hue to the air, to the grass and the trees. Elias was the first to look away. "I'll get better."

"We all have needs, Eli," she said. "Yours will catch up with you."

He thought of Reuben on his knees, licking at him, and wished he could laugh at the irony. If she knew, she would freak out. He wondered if she might kill him herself, but it's more likely that she would view it as a failure on her part.

He didn't respond. Let her think what she wanted.

***

"Let's go somewhere today," Reuben said to him when they were in the car, just after the church was out of sight. They were driving over Belmont, which was a different direction than the usual. Elias couldn't help eyeing the ledge where they had met.

"Where?"

"I was thinking the mall."

“Yeah?”

“I mean.” He shrugged. He was clearly embarrassed, in a kind of boyish way. “It would be fun. I haven’t been there in years, you know. It’s a pretty good one, there’s even a movie theater in it.”

“I don’t want to see a movie.” This was half-true—he’d probably love to see a movie, to experience that, since he never had before, and maybe they could someday, but it sounded to him more like a way to waste two hours where they couldn’t even speak to each other. They didn’t have that kind of time.

Reuben understood this. “Me neither.”

“I’ve never been to a mall.”

“Really?” Reuben’s brows went up. “Never?”

“ _Never_ ,” Elias said, like this were scandalous. Reuben gasped appropriately, and drove slightly faster for it.

The mall was a large building that looked more like a collection of many buildings, except they were all the same boring, off-white color, though the store signs were fancy. Large and bright and uniquely colored. The parking lot wasn’t too busy, so Reuben parked relatively close to an entrance.

It felt like Elias had just unbuckled his seatbelt when Reuben was already at his door. He opened it for him, even helped him out of the car. “Thank you.” Elias had a hint of confusion to his voice.

Reuben dropped his hand and shut the car door. “Sorry,” he said quickly. “It’s been a while since I’ve done this.”

Elias wanted to ask— _This?_ —but Reuben was already pulling him along by the hand. He let go when Elias matched his speed. Elias sort of wished he wouldn’t, though he really didn’t have the bravery to hold anyone’s hand in public. Even if Reuben weren’t a boy, he still wouldn’t be Lillian, and it wasn’t out of the realm of possibility that church members could be at the mall.

He went cold realizing this. Why didn’t he think of that before? That someone could see him here? What the fuck was he supposed to do then, if he was caught? He wouldn’t have agreed to this at all if he’d realized—

“You okay?” Reuben asked him. They were about to step through the automatic doors. Elias had gotten close to his side, as if he were trying to hide in him.

“Yes,” he said. He breathed, focused on breathing. It would be okay. _God, please let me have today. Please_. “I’m fine. Let’s go.”

Upon entering, Elias couldn’t help but stop and look. The mall was huge—bigger than anything he was imagining, way bigger than the supermarket he’d been to with Sister Olivia. There was an entire first floor that seemed to stretch for miles down the corridor, or at least well past the point of seeing the end of it from where he stood. Stores lined either side, music played distantly, and many things were in the walkway: plants, couches, massage chairs, _people._ Even today, on a weekday morning, there were many people. Reuben had to gently pull Elias out of the way of the entrance to allow others inside.

“It’s busy,” Elias said to him, almost in wonder.

“Not really.” Reuben was smiling, amused with him. “Come on.”

Reuben led the way, but there were escalators leading both down and up, and Elias was drawn to them more than any shop or smell. “We haven’t explored the bottom floor,” Reuben said.

“We can in a second.” As if Elias wouldn’t want to immediately ride the one back down. Reuben let him on the escalator three times before pulling him away. They were starting to receive odd looks.

The rest of the mall was fun, too. They dipped into nearly every shop. The clothing ones were fairly boring, at least to Elias, because he didn’t understand any of the references made on them, or just wasn’t interested in fashion much at all. Reuben didn’t stop to look at clothing much, either. “It’s not what I’m here for,” he said.

Elias did get a kick out of the prank store with the wall of sex toys, even if the music playing there made him want to claw his eyes out. There was also a tiny store for perfume and cologne, and it was an assault on the senses that Elias loved: he tried every tester on various parts of his arm, and sprayed his favorite all over Reuben, who countered by enveloping him in a hug, thoroughly choking him.

They were probably annoying the shopkeepers by popping into every store and leaving with nothing. Elias brought this up, and Reuben vowed to fix this eventually.

The toy store was Elias’s favorite so far. It was one of the larger ones, with entire sections dedicated to different brands and what he assumed were popular characters. Reuben was continually surprised when he learned what exactly Elias knew and didn’t know about.

For instance, at the farmhouse they had old VHS tapes and Elias was familiar with plenty of old stuff. He knew of the classic disney princesses, and of Mickey Mouse characters. Though he still wasn’t _that_ familiar with them, he knew who they were. He didn’t recognize the art style of many modern characters and children’s shows, though, and there were a few Disney princesses he hadn’t remotely heard of. Reuben was happy to enlighten him on anything he wanted to know more about, no questions asked. Elias was thankful for this aspect, truly. Sometimes he didn’t want to get into it about why he never knew anything. He just didn’t.

“You still haven’t gotten anything,” Elias said to him. They were entering a jewelry store because it was the next one down. They were moving systematically through this mall until they found themselves back where they started.

The jewelry store smelled nice, like purity and grandeur, or maybe Elias was still smelling the amalgamation of scents he’d put on himself. The store was also more empty than the other stores had been, only a small handful of people admiring the rings and necklaces in their glass cases. Reuben replied to him, but Elias had already wandered to a display.

It was a bracelets display. Gold and silver and bronze, with both simple and complex designs. He moved along slowly as he admired the jewelry. The bracelets transformed to earrings, then into necklaces, and then rings. There were a lot of rings, with a lot of designs, and a different stone in each one.

Rings were significant in the Movement, though perhaps not as significant as in traditional Christianity. There was no sense in “saving oneself for marriage,” barring legitimate reasons. Why would God give you a body if not to use it? Especially for its intended purpose, procreation, whether out of wedlock or not. The marriage does purify a bond, however, and creates a trueborn child, which will always give you a leg up over a bastard. In general, human society had always worked this way, and for a reason.

He tried to imagine his parents’ rings. He didn’t have to try very hard; he had seen them so many times. His father had a simple golden band, with his mother’s matching, though there was a red gemstone adorning it. Elias wasn’t sure what gemstone it was. He guessed he never thought to ask.

“What are you thinking about?” Reuben asked from beside him.

Elias still stared down at them. “My family.”

“Do they like rings?”

This made him smile at him. “No, not particularly.”

“Do you?”

"Do I what?"

"Like rings?"

He looked up and met Reuben’s eyes. Reuben was just waiting expectantly. It didn’t look like he were kidding. “I’m a little past saving myself for marriage.”

“I think that ship has sailed, yeah.”

“I’m not going to marry you,” he said.

Reuben laughed out loud, too loud for the size and atmosphere of the store they were in. He quieted himself and said, “It would just be a gift, dude. No obligation required.”

“These are way too expensive.”

“Well, _these_ , sure, but there’s bound to be a budget ring in here. I mean, it’s a jewelry store.”

“Reuben, I…”

“Just pick your favorite,” he told him. “And let me know.”

Elias looked around, uncomfortable with something even as expensive as ten dollars being bought for him, let alone however much a ring would cost—he really didn’t know—but also, secretly, deeply enamored with this concept: Reuben buying him a ring, any ring. He imagined, in an alternative universe, when they were a few years older maybe, being proposed to with whatever ring he picked, and wearing it all the time. He might just wear it all the time, regardless.

The ring he decided on was a simple black band with a tiny white cross carved into it. Elias wasn’t sure of the material, but it was one of the cheapest, and he liked it a lot, the simplicity of it. He liked it even more when, after buying it, Reuben was the one who put it on for him. It went on his left hand’s ring finger. The marriage finger—he thought he might explode from affection. He wanted to kiss Reuben, badly, and he was scared for a second that Reuben might kiss him right there in the store, but he didn’t.

The woman who sold them the ring—who was fairly young, all things considered, definitely in her twenties anyway—looked about as full of adoration as Elias was. “You boys are very handsome together,” she said.

Together? Were they ‘together?’ He couldn’t be _together_ with Reuben if he were already engaged to a girl. Still… the thought was amazing. Reuben said, “Thank you.”

“Are you sure you don’t want a ring, too?” she asked him.

He said, “Not today,” and the implication there, as if it could happen someday—even if it never would—still made Elias smile.

They left the mall together when it was close to a quarter past two. Elias fidgeted with the ring on his finger, twisting it this way and that, all the way to the car. In the car, safe behind window tints and locked doors, they finally kissed. They kissed passionately, long and slow. Elias still felt out of his mind whenever they kissed at the very simple magic of being a boy and kissing another boy, with no one watching, and no one judging. They could just be. Reuben had Elias’s face cupped in his hands when they pulled apart. Elias loved when he did this.

“Thank you.” Elias had already said this several times throughout the process of buying the ring, but it never hurt to say it again.

“It’s nothing.”

“I’ll get you something someday too.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I want to.” Elias placed his hands over Reuben’s. Reuben responded by squeezing his cheeks together, making him smile. His next words came out appropriately smushed sounding. “I’ll make it a surprise.”

“Oh, okay,” Reuben said. He let go, and they both dropped their hands. “That’s fine, then. Everybody loves surprises.” He leaned to give Elias a quick kiss on his cheek. Elias flushed.

“I don’t want to go home,” Elias admitted.

“I’m happy to drive you literally anywhere else,” Reuben said flippantly. Elias laughed at him.

“We can't, I’d get caught,” he said.

“Don’t make jokes.” Reuben started backing out of the parking spot, and began to drive. “Or—comments like that. I hate driving you back to that church. I literally will take you anywhere you want to go the moment you give me the word.”

“Sorry. I don’t have a horrible home life, anyway. I didn't mean it,” he apologized. “I just meant that I don’t want to leave you yet. It wasn’t anything serious.” He watched Reuben drive. It looked like he was thinking hard about something. “I’m glad to have you.”

This sort of made him smirk a little. “Why do you say that?”

“Just in case,” Elias said. “Maybe someday I will snap and run. Also, you know. What I said, about if I don’t see you, it still stands. One week. You know where I live.”

“I hate it when you say shit like that,” Reuben said. “I think the worst, you know. Every time. The absolute worst.”

“Nothing like that will happen,” Elias promised. This was a lie, of course. He didn’t know what Reuben was thinking specifically—torture, abuse, murder?—but with enough pushing, anything could happen to him. But he didn’t want to make Reuben worry, and besides, they weren’t going to get caught as long as they were careful. “The worst they would do is just, like, ground me.”

“Don’t lie to me.”

Elias crossed his arms self-consciously. “Nothing will happen to me.”

“Nothing?”

“Nothing.”


	9. Chapter 9

“In front of us today stands Lauren Campbell,” the Father said in front of the crowd of people sitting in the pews. Beside him stood she: a girl who was slight, dark-haired and wide-eyed. She had on something resembling a hospital gown, covering the front and not the back, and nothing else. “She is ready to grow into herself and blossom into a woman.”

It had been a while since the last ceremony, almost two years, and that had been a boy, Kieran. Elias forgot how much he hated to be present for them. But it was required for him to be here, so he sat in his usual seat in the very front row, between Lillian and his mother. He sat face forward with a blank stare. He tried to prepare himself for the specific preach that came with this ceremony.

“Sex has many names,” his father said. “Fucking, relations, intercourse. Between a man and wife it can be called _making love_. It can be used as a casual use of God’s vessel, _recreation,_ or it can be used pointedly and with a purpose, _procreation_. As a child you are taught to respect it, but not to partake, because you’re too young to understand the significance of this gift. But we’re never young forever.” Standing directly behind her, he placed his hands on her shoulders. “We all grow up. And we all have to fulfill our purpose. The greatest blessing of all is to become a mother or a father. Today, Lauren will feel the joy of her Father. Lauren.” He spoke directly to her.

She jumped slightly and said, “Yes, Father?” She was clearly afraid. Girls and boys both usually were, Elias assumed, because of this vulnerable moment being made so public.

“Tell the members of the Movement how old you turned this week.”

“Sixteen.”

“And speak your request.”

She took a deep, stuttering breath. She spoke: “This is a matter of the church and I request there be no recording devices during my ceremony. I request that this milestone for me stay in this building, and may it never leave. I request that each of you look to me as a suitable addition to the family, and as a model and guide for those that come after me. And I ask humbly that God allow me a baby in nine months time.”

These words were practiced over and over and spoken at every coming of age ceremony. Everyone in the pews clapped politely at the end of it, Elias included.

“Thank you,” The Father said. “You may strip.”

The ties in the back were usually tied loose to make this easy on the person. Lauren seemed to handle them fine. Her garment dropped.

This was usually the moment Elias tuned out, but he knew what came next, and he knew how it specifically applied to him, and even if he knew that it would only serve to make him feel worse—especially to hear his father say it—he couldn’t stop listening.

His father gestured to her body. He spoke in one long, relentless stroke. “A woman’s body. Built for a man to use and enjoy, and vice versa. With these bodies we can prolong our species, we can create the gift of life. They were made for one another. Man is meant, by God, to lie with woman, as woman is meant to lie with man. The rules are clear but bear repeating. Man shall not lie with man. Man shall not lie with beast. Man shall not lie with child.” At this last, he turned to look at Lauren, who had her chin up and gaze aimed at the ceiling, unmoving. “Today, we as a collective experience growth and passion. And this is what keeps us together. Lauren, you may lie down.”

Elias averted his eyes downward. He didn’t want to see any of it. He had gone cold, as if the mere mention of the concept of homosexuality had put him on display to the entire building, to the whole world. No one was looking at him, but it didn’t feel that way.

He could do nothing about the sound of his father fucking this girl. He had heard it before, with different girls of course, and it always haunted him, but this time was worse. This time the reality of his secret was catching up to him with each grunt, each gasp, each thrust.

Reuben felt like a jawbreaker, too big and obvious in his mouth to be kept a secret. James knew, but James might have broken one of the rules himself— _man shall not lie with child_ —and he couldn’t be trusted anymore as a sincere confidant. Nobody could. When Elias wasn’t with Reuben, he was really, truly alone in this life. All he had was God.

His father came.

He had to confess.

***

Elias wasn’t sure how his religion’s version of confession matched up to its original form from Catholicism, but it was all he had.

The way that it worked was pretty simple. The only confession hours were after church, and they were open for two hours total. In the church there was a little division near the back, completely soundproofed, with soundproofed confession chambers. There were two chambers. Each chamber had a chair on either side of a wall, one for you to enter, and one for the person you were meant to confess to.

Elias had no idea who was on the other side of those walls. He didn’t know if anyone knew, save for his parents of course. He did know for a fact that it was not them. They were too busy to bother themselves with this.

Confession was meant to be a safe haven because there were no rules. You weren’t _supposed_ to say anything. You could sit in silence if you wanted, though your time limit was twenty minutes. It was _meant_ to be a way to confess your sins without punishment. Elias told himself this as he rose from his pew, after church ended.

Lillian tugged his pants to stop him. “Where are you going?” she asked.

“Confession,” he answered honestly.

“ _Confession?_ ”

“Yes,” he told her, defensively. She seemed to accept this, albeit grudgingly.

The walk there felt like a walk to his own demise, but he had somewhat of a plan. He would not mention Reuben at all, of course. He would only confess to the barest of information. Just enough to prove to God that he wasn’t trying to hide anything. He didn’t always feel honest to God, even though he knew he saw everything. It still felt like lying.

He opened the door to one of the small chambers with a creak. The church was an old building. He shut it and locked it.

In truth, he had never done this before. “Hello?” he asked.

A low voice he didn’t recognize said, “I am here.” He tried, quickly, to assign the voice to a name, or a face, but he couldn’t.

“I…” He didn’t wear the ring that Reuben bought him around his family or to church, but he always kept it in his pocket, so he fidgeted with it there. “I have sinned,” he said. “I think—unforgivably.”

“Confess.”

“I… I like men,” he admitted. “I know that I’m meant to be with women. But I’m not attracted to them. I’m attracted to men.”

“You say you have sinned?” they asked. “Attraction is not a sin.”

He started, stopped. Confused. “I lay with a man,” he told them. “And I enjoyed it. I want to do it again.” He knew these people behind the walls were not people of many words, but he still took the silence that followed as judgement. “I know that it’s wrong,” he said hurriedly. “I just—wanted God to know, I guess.”

“He knows,” they said. “He knew the minute you were born.”

“What do you mean?”

They did not respond.

“This is a perversion,” he told them. “I need help, I think.”

“Help is in your reach.”

“I can’t go to—” He nearly said _my_. “I can’t go to The Father. Or the mother.”

“And why not?”

“I just can’t.”

“Help is still in your reach.”

“How?”

“You have to find it.”

“But _how_?”

They did not respond.

***

Elias had promised Reuben that he wouldn’t hurt himself. He stared at his pathetic pocket knife in his hand, sheathing it in and out of itself, and told himself this. He was stressing himself out.

He’d just finished with his work for the day and he was too lazy to shower just yet, so he was lying, filthy and gross, on his bedroom floor. The knife went in, the knife went out.

The pain helped. He was always full of so much—just— _guilt_. It helped when he was with Reuben, because Reuben distracted him, he reminded him why this secret was worth it, worth risking everything. Being home, being around Lillian, or his mother, or especially being by himself, it was just so much worse to deal with.

Confession had helped, too. Just telling someone, anyone. He wished he knew who was on the other side of the wall.

The pain helped him the most, though. It was less about enjoying pain—he hated it, really, and he hated the look of the scars it left, all ugly and red—but more about the fact that he deserved it, and that it gave him control over himself. Everything, _every_ aspect of his life, was decided by other people, but doing this was his decision: he was in control.

He had harmed himself a few times already between his promise to Reuben and this moment. It was always with this knife, and always over top the scars that were already there. His underwear covered them, and he very rarely took his underwear all the way off with Reuben.

The knife went in, the knife went out.

At his door, he heard three firm taps. His door had no lock, so the man let himself in. Elias had startled and tossed the knife, quick as lightning, to be hidden underneath his dresser, deep in the shadows there. He faced the intruder—his father—on his ass, before standing up hurriedly. “Father,” he said. He glanced at his clock, which read seven in the evening.

“Hello, Eli.”

Elias smiled tightly. He thought of several things: the knife under the dresser, his lack of proper attire, the light from the sunset filtering in through the blinds being the only lighting in the room, illuminating his father into something beautiful, and his father, Aaron Flood, dressed as if he were going out, all dark suit and no tie. He thought of his father, entering Lauren, and of all the girls he’d entered before. “It’s good to see you.”

“I’m sorry to bother you so late. I hope you weren’t busy.”

“Not at all.”

“I’d like to talk,” he said. “Mind if I sit?”

“Of course not, sir.”

He sat on Elias’s bed as if it were made of something delicate. He said, “Sit with me,” so Elias did.

They sat in silence for what felt like minutes. Elias wasn’t quite at the point of panicking, but he recognized the familiar fear, the slow rise of his heartbeat’s pace. When his father spoke, he locked eyes with him. “I have been talking with Lillian lately,” he started. “She says you’re coming along with her.”

“I am.”

“She was talking to me, and she felt very comfortable doing so,” he went on. “She told me many things. Things I probably shouldn’t know. But it occurred to me, as she spoke, that I have failed as a father in a few aspects. Don’t dissent.” He stopped Elias, who had shook his head. “I have. I have not lent enough of an open ear to you. And as a child you weren’t exposed enough to free love. That’s why you’re so afraid of it. At least, that’s what I think.”

“I’m not afraid,” Elias said.

“I don’t want you to lie to me,” he said. “I need you to be honest with me. This is a father-son talk. Tell me, Elias: how do you feel about women? About Lillian?”

Elias frowned. “You know how I feel. I like them. Her.”

“That’s not what I meant.” He rose and shut the door, which had been ajar, with a damning click. He reached into the inside of his suit jacket and pulled out a small stack of what looked like photographs. “I meant _her_. Her body, her womanhood.”

“I…” What was he to say? He eyed the photographs in his father’s hands. “I haven’t looked at it in that way.”

“This was her idea.” He waved the pictures. “Exposure, she said. She said its a method of getting you used to it. I didn’t take them,” he assured. “She simply gave them to me. Maybe she was too nervous to give them to you herself.”

He began to brandish them one by one for Elias. Elias felt like he was expected to take them and examine them himself, but he didn’t want to. It might burn him, like holy water to a demon. He didn’t even want to look, but he had to, and so they looked together.

Many pictures were not inherently sexual. Just close-ups of her lips, of her stomach. Most were sexual, though. Her breasts, her ass, her legs, spread. They were all Lillian. Elias didn’t say anything.

“I’m going to ask her to start coming over for the nights more often,” he said. “She’ll sleep in here with you. And you are a very special case, I think. So… I’m going to gift you condoms.” Elias’s eyes widened. Condoms were forbidden. “I cannot allow her to become pregnant yet,” he said, as if Elias didn’t know what condoms were for.

“You don’t have to—”

“Your fear is okay,” he told him. “It’s my fault, and I’m sorry. But you will get over it. I’m working on being more—open-minded. More of a father for you. But this isn’t a question and you know it. You _will_ get over it.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Lillian reports to me now. She’ll tell me when you fuck her.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“I’m sorry,” Elias told him. He was tired. He wanted his father to leave, he wanted the knife under the dresser. “For the way that I am.”

“It’s fixable,” his father assured. Then he got up and left.

Elias felt like a wild animal, almost feral, with how quickly he got to all fours and reached into the shadows to retrieve the knife from under the dresser. He was too impatient to do the harming properly, to clean the blade and the surface area. He held the edge to his arm. _Don’t_ , hissed his inner self. _Not there. He’ll see._

Who? His father? Reuben?

God?

He would wear sleeves, then.

It would be fine.

At the first breath of fresh pain, he could feel that his sense of control had shattered. He violated both of his arms messily, horribly. Dangerously, the more he did it, the less it hurt. He blocked the pain of it out altogether, frustrated instead with himself, with his father, with his sexuality, with his religion’s rules. Every individual photograph of Lillian was piercing him from their place on the bed, and that hurt worse than the cutting.

It was messy, blood went all over the floor. He didn’t bother staunching it; he didn’t care anymore. He felt like he was daring fate to make something happen. He wondered, would he bleed to death right here on his bedroom floor? Would his father come through the door that doesn't lock and find him, lifeless, knife in hand? Would he weep? Would his mother?

Reuben would. He knew that much.

Longing overcame him so much so that he let out a low keening sound. He yearned for the fantasy of a normal life in the city, of being loved unconditionally and without barriers. In this moment, he yearned for a cellphone. He would give anything to hear Reuben's voice.

Was this worth it? Was any of this worth it? Elias smeared the blood on his left arm with his right thumb. It elicited a sharp sting, and he hissed. These scars would not go away. They were his, forever. This comforted him.

Reuben would hate them. He would blame himself for them, he would see Elias differently, treat him differently. These thoughts sobered him enough to pick himself up from the floor. He used a shirt from his dirty laundry to finally staunch and wipe at the blood until it was stopped, ignoring the pain as he went, and then hid the shirt in his trash can. He quickly went to the bathroom, which was thankfully not far from his bedroom, and used the sink to do the rest. He had nothing to wrap himself with that wasn't halfway or more across the house, so he held his arms out in front of himself and willed his wounds to heal.

"He'll hate me." He stared at his arms in distress and whispered these words in the dark. "He will hate me."

Eventually he did go back to his room. He picked up the photographs of Lillian. He flipped through them slowly. He could picture their context easily; he recognized the color of the carpet in her bedroom. He could see her arranging the camera, posing, praying that this would help her broken lover.

He wanted to rip them in half, and then again, until they were a bunch of incomprehensible pieces. Instead, he tucked them away into the drawer in his bedside table, though he didn't plan on taking them out again.


	10. Chapter 10

It scared Elias every time they went out in public together, so when they did, Reuben would make sure to drive them to the next town over. They rarely did anything more interesting than go to a store or two, but Elias cherished every second of time he spent away from home.

And, so far away, he finally let Reuben hold his hand as they walked together. It felt surreal to do. His eyes kept traveling back to their fingers intertwined; he kept having to force himself to look straight ahead.

Outside, it felt like autumn in full force, the leaves littering the ground and being blown by the wind. He was more than aware of his arms underneath the sleeves of his jacket. It'd been a few days since that night, but his wounds were far from healed, and they still hurt him. He accepted the pain, though. It helped to keep his mind occupied on something other than his family, if nothing else.

Reuben squeezed his hand in his own. "What are you thinking about?"

“Nothing.”

“Something’s off,” he said, tugging lightly on his hand so that their shoulders brushed together as they walked. “I know you. I can tell.”

“You can’t _tell_ , I’m just bad at hiding my emotions.”

“So you _are_ upset.”

“I’m fine, Reuben.”

“I know that you’re not.”

Elias pulled away from him and turned, stopping their movements. “If you know me so well, then guess.”

“What?”

"Guess," Elias said. He was angry now over nothing, but he couldn’t help it. It wasn’t any of Reuben’s business, and besides, what was he assuming? He didn’t know everything.

“Eli.”

"You can guess?" he prompted. "Do it, then."

"Okay," Reuben said. "It's your religion."

"Obviously."

"It always is."

"Not always."

"It's always your family," Reuben lazily corrected. "Which is backwards because of your religion. So I'm right."

"My religion isn't backwards."

"That's not what I said.

"That's kind of what you said."

"Are we fighting?" Reuben gestured between them. "Is this a fight?"

"No."

"Then what's going on?"

"Nothing. I just asked you a question since you know me so fucking well and you said—"

"—I said what I thought, dude.”

"You insulted me!" Elias said this loudly enough to attract the attention of passersby.

Reuben stepped closer to him and reached for his arm. He spoke more softly. "Are you okay?"

"Yes." Elias jerked away from his touch, afraid that Reuben might feel the scars beneath. As he usually did these days when he was upset, he'd begun to fidget with the ring on his finger. "I just—have a lot going on, and—"

"Tell me about it."

"You don't want to hear it."

Reuben frowned. The usual excuse was _I don't want to_ or simply _I can't_. "Of course I do."

Elias was staring past Reuben, at nothing in particular. "You'll leave me," he said quietly.

"No I won’t.”

"You'll hate me." He felt his face begin to crumble, and he couldn't stand that—especially couldn't stand it in public—so he forced himself to start up walking again. He moved fast enough that Reuben, even though he was taller than him, struggled to keep up.

"Eli." He sounded a bit desperate, but mostly confused. "Wait—"

The car wasn't that far from them, only a few blocks down. They'd parked in a pay-to-park lot, and had a few more hours before the pass expired, but Elias was ready to go now. He reached the car before Reuben and still fruitlessly tried the door handle. It was locked, of course. In a strange fit he aggressively tried it again and once more before leaning against the car with his face buried in his arms, a last ditch attempt to hide what may become tears from the general public. There weren't any tears, not yet, but he felt close.

Reuben came up close to him, leaning against the car as well. "You're scaring me,” he said quietly.

"I'm sorry."

"Is it that serious?"

"Yes. No. I don't know."

"You have to tell me," Reuben said. "Whatever it is, I'm with you. Don't cry." His arms came to wrap around him, and Elias relaxed into them. He didn't want to, he wanted to stay angry, but he couldn't help it. "I got you."

He did not want Reuben to know that he’d harmed himself again, nor how much he had. But he had plenty else to be upset about, and it was probably time for what he’d had to do with Lillian to come to light. "Do you remember my… my girlfriend?" he asked miserably. "Lillian?"

They had never discussed her, not after the initial confession that she existed. Reuben had never brought her up again, and Elias was always happy to leave thoughts of her behind. But Reuben deserved to know this.

"Sure," he said after a moment. His voice was uncertain.

"I know we never really talk about her, which has been—fine, really, but she's actually—she's very important to my, um, life." He hated this, the way he fumbled over his words. "Right now."

"Eli, what are you talking about?"

"We're engaged," he said finally. "She's my fiancée. We've been engaged for a long time."

For a second there were only the sounds of their surroundings. To his credit, Reuben hadn't even gone stiff around him. He did pull back, though. Just a little. "Wait. What?"

Elias faced him. He hadn't cried—the urge had left him, thank god, and left desperation in its wake. “It’s because she's one of us," he tried to clarify.

" _One of us_? So, what—a part of your cult?"

The word— _cult_ —felt sharp. Elias felt the pierce of the word like a stab, but he ignored it. He didn't want Reuben to misunderstand. "Nothing's changed," he told him quickly. "I don't want her."

"But have you had her?" Reuben looked more upset than angry, though his voice was the opposite. He had backed off completely now. Elias wasn't brave enough to reach for him; he deserved anything that was said to him. He was with Lillian first, after all. "Huh?"

"Yes."

"What?" he said, like he was offering Elias a second chance to answer.

"Yes," Elias repeated, feeling distressed. "I've—not slept with her, but—we've done things. But Reuben, you don't understand—"

"I understand perfectly, thank you." Reuben walked over to his side of the car. He unlocked the doors and got in. Elias followed suit. The door shutting loudly behind him felt like a bad omen, somehow. "It's crystal clear what the situation is."

"Please don't be angry with me."

"Of course I'm fucking angry with you!" It was the loudest Reuben had ever been, to him, his voice incredulous like Elias were an idiot for asking. Elias cowered under it, shrinking into his seat. Reuben's hands were tense on the wheel. He rested his forehead on them and breathed in once, twice, shakily. "I'm trying not to be," he said eventually, in a tone so sad Elias couldn't bear it. "I know that you're… stressed. I know I'm missing pieces." Elias stayed silent. "But you have to understand that from my perspective—I mean, God. I don't know what I thought. That you two weren’t that serious, I guess? I definitely didn't think you were _engaged_. And now that I know that, I think I'm realizing a lot more after putting that fact into the context of your life. You know what I mean." He still wasn't looking at Elias, but he could see Reuben's eyes were open despite his head being down. Elias touched his ring. "If you marry her, and she's in your church, then she's always going to be number one for you. No one will ever know who I am—what we have. Not ever." He shook his head. "I love you, dude. I can see how this will go. My heart's been broken before. It's been a long fucking time, though."

Elias's heart was still pounding from the volume of Reuben's shout. He'd always hated being yelled at. He told himself to respond. "I don't want to break your heart," he said meekly.

"Then don't." Reuben looked up at him, and Elias’s eyes widened. Reuben's eyes were slightly puffy. He thought of Reuben's words to him just minutes before: _Don't cry. I got you._ He had no right to say the same.

"You were right," Elias said, his resolve breaking at the sight. "It's my family. It's my religion. But I have no choice—I have to be with her." Reuben only stared at him. His words tumbled from his mouth. "It's a little conservative but arranged marriages are tradition in the Movement and I've been arranged to marry her. I've been engaged to her for years. I don't have any choice, Reuben, but I promise you, I _promise_ you, I used to want to die every day because of this. That's why we met the way we did! I don't want her! And I only don't want to die now because—because I want you. I'm—" He still couldn't say it. "I'm attracted to men. I know that now. Not women at all. I've tried with her, and I can't. I want you." He added, "Please don't hate me."

Reuben seemed stricken. "I don't hate you. I could never hate you. I just…" He wiped at his eyes. "It fucking sucks that there's really no way to fix this, because you refuse to run from what's hurting you."

"Reuben…"

"Fuck her. I know she hasn't done anything against me, specifically, but fuck her. What did you guys do together, anyway, if you didn't fuck? Never mind, I don't want to know." He was staring at his steering wheel. "Fuck, yes I do. What did you do? Are you going to fuck her?"

Elias was deeply uncomfortable with sharing, but Reuben deserved to know. "She, um, just sort of got me off once. And yes. I have to have sex with her."

A long silence filled the car. Reuben closed his eyes.

"Tell me what you're thinking."

"I'm thinking this is a real fucking—a real fucking Romeo and Juliet type of tragedy. I'm thinking I want to kidnap you and take you somewhere where you'll never have to deal with this shit again. I'm thinking about the alternate universe where I just leave." Reuben’s eyes pierced him then, like the words were meant to hurt. Elias felt his heart sink. "But I won't," he said eventually. "I won't. It would hurt me too. I'd rather live in this tragedy."

They breathed together. It was stuffy in the car now because none of the windows were down. Reuben said, "Whatever. Let's get back to the city."

"I'm sorry for ruining our day."

Reuben shook his head as he backed out of the parking spot. He said nothing.


	11. Chapter 11

"How have you been?"

James spoke to him only on his way in and out. Elias felt slimy just being around him. There was just no way to disassociate James from the pictures he had discovered, or from the guilt Elias felt every time he was reminded that he was not doing anything about it.

"I'm fine," Elias responded. He was on his way to head back home. James had stopped him as he passed by his office.

"Can I see you in here for a second?"

Elias eyed the space warily, but agreed. He stepped across the threshold. James closed the door behind him gently, though he did lock it.

"Our deal’s still in place, right?" he asked.

"Yes."

"I just want to make sure our terms are clear here."

"Yes,” Elias said. “You don't tell anyone I try to be a normal human being sometimes, and I don't tell anyone you're a pedophile."

James frowned. "There's no need to be nasty."

"You seem to feel some need."

"And please, tell me all the details of your sodomy with Reuben. I'm sure it's all very clean and holy."

Elias frowned in frustration. It jarred him to hear the names of his two lives in their opposite scenarios; he hated to hear it. "Don't say his name," he said.

"I know his name, first, middle and last. Reuben V. Hill. I bet you don't even know what the V stands for."

Elias didn't. He didn't even have a middle name, himself. He crossed his arms. "Can I please go home?"

"Yes, of course," James said. "I just wanted to make sure you were aware that more than just yourself is at stake, you know, if either of our secrets get out."

"I knew that already."

James opened the door for him. "I'm sorry, Elias," he said before he could leave. "For how it is now, between us. We _were_ close. I know that you looked up to me." He gave him a smile. Strangely, it wasn't smug or wicked. It seemed sincere. "You were lovely."

The words made Elias paranoid. Did James know something he didn't? Something Elias couldn't remember? But something like that wasn't possible—he must be being honest. Regardless, Elias wasn't going to ask to find out. "I'm sorry, too," he said, and left.


	12. Chapter 12

Elias sat on the couch in his home’s living room. He had his eyes closed. He was experiencing this for the first time, being alone; no one was home.

Not once in his entire life had he been home when no one else was. His father left home frequently, and of course so did Sister Olivia, but his mother was more or less always here, and Brother Desmond was usually a constant presence as well. The only time they were ever absent was when they had church. And of course, Elias was always with them then.

So he sat in the silence of his house and focused on what he could hear in it. There was no television to turn on or radio to play music. There were no cellphones lying about. The windows were open. He could hear the sounds of some of the animals drifting through the kitchen's window in the distance. He could hear the sound of the clock ticking from its place on the wall. Once he found this sound he couldn't unhear it—it overshadowed every other noise until there was only the clock, droning on and on.

_Tick_.

He focused on breathing. In, out. Relax.

_Tock_.

He was waiting for Lillian to show up. It was early morning, hardly even seven. She would be here any minute now.

_Tick_.

Elias was dressed in his church clothes, minus his watch and shoes. His hair was freshly washed and combed. He'd gotten his hair cut yesterday by Sister Olivia, and that always made him feel more vulnerable.

_Tock_.

Reuben hadn't seen his hair yet. Or his arms.

There was a knock on the door. Elias opened his eyes. The familiar fearfulness built up within him, but he did his best to stifle it as he stepped towards the door, opened it, and greeted her.

She looked younger. Her hair was in a neat ponytail and she had on her glasses—which was unusual, she never wore them—as well as a sundress. She was wearing a coat over the dress, which she handed to him as she took off her shoes at the door. "It's been a while."

It hadn't really. They saw each other a few times a week. It had probably been three or four days since they'd last seen each other. Elias agreed with her anyway as he hung her coat on the coat rack. "I guess it has," he said. "How are you?"

She stepped up to him and gave him a swift, chaste kiss on the lips. "I'm brilliant," she told him. He felt guilty; he usually did after kissing her.

"You look pretty,” he made himself say.

"Ha! And you look dapper. I like the hair." She brought a hand up to ruffle it. "Olivia?"

"Yes."

"Of course. Come on, let's go to your room." She grabbed his arm and tugged him gently towards the staircase.

"Already?" he said. "We have the whole place to ourselves."

"What do you suggest we do first?" She was looking at him expectantly.

He fumbled for something to say. “Talk?”

"Oh, yes." She led him instead to the couch he had been sitting on, and sat him down again. She climbed over top of him and straddled him. "How could I forget, talking is your foreplay. Did you like my pictures?"

"Father showed me them."

She didn't notice that he wasn't happy about that fact. "Yes, and you liked them?"

"Why couldn't you give them to me yourself?" he asked her. "Why did he have to give me them? Why did he have them?"

"It's normal to share your sexuality with the Father," she defended.

"How have you been sharing?"

She grinned. "Are you jealous?" She leaned in to kiss him. It was more sensual this time, more involved. She bit his lip as she pulled away. “There's no need to be, Elias. I prefer you over your Father. I’m not into older men.”

He adjusted under her. "That's encouraging."

"I love you." She kissed him again.

"Why?" He had to ask against her lips, since she hadn't pulled away.

She frowned now, for the first time since she'd stepped through the door. "What do you mean, why? Don't you love me?"

"Of course I do," he told her. "But not in the way you mean. Why do you love me? I do nothing for you."

"None of us are perfect." She sat a little flatter on his lap, her dress riding up. He noticed then that she wasn't wearing anything underneath. He started breathing a little faster. "I've known you since we were kids, Elias. I know you better than you think I do. It's okay if you don't find me attractive yet. I'll work harder. I love you because you're you."

"Because I'm my father's son."

"Because you're _you_. You're very sweet, and caring, and I like that. I think you'll take good care of me and our baby. And our community. People love you!"

_Our baby_. The words echoed over and over in his head. He hadn't even told Reuben that part. That he had to be a father by twenty. "The condoms are in my room," he said to Lillian.

"Well, come on, then." She ground down on him once more before bouncing up and off of him.

His room was cleaned for the occasion: floor swept and mopped, bed made, everything put away. He meant to put the pictures of her on display as a way to show her that he cared, but he couldn't bring himself to touch them again, so they stayed hidden in his drawer. Candles were scattered but not lit, since the sun had just risen. The light cast into the room was beautiful. Elias loved sunlight, but it didn't help the gloomy feeling within him.

He was tasked today with having sex with Lillian. Everyone gave the house to them so that they could have the entire day to be alone and love each other without any outside pressure. Elias stood still as Lillian came to him and began unbuttoning his shirt. "I do love your chest," she said conversationally. Once undone she took a moment to splay her hands on him. "You're lean. I can tell you work hard."

"Thanks."

She took his shirt off and revealed the bandages that were on his arms. He'd taken care to wrap them both up so that none of his scars were visible. Still, she eyed them, asking her silent question.

"I hurt myself," he told her. Not a lie. "It's pretty bad. I didn't want to take you out of the mood, I had to cover it up."

"Are you going to be okay?"

"Yes, of course." Of course she was worried; she was basically his nurse. If anyone was bandaging him up it should have been her. "I'm taking care of it. Please don't tell anyone, though. It's my fault."

"Okay." Her arms slid over the bandages on either side of him. "You did pretty well. I’m proud of you."

"I learned from the best."

She smiled sweetly. He smiled back at her, and it felt nice, this moment, like they could be close after all. They _had_ been friends before this mess. Best friends, even. She cast his shirt aside. "Don't be nervous." Her hands went to his fly.

"I'm not."

"You're very transparent," she said. "I don't know why you bother lying."

He knew this, but hearing it from her still pissed him off a little. The good feeling he'd felt dissipated quickly. If he were so transparent, then why did she see it fit to force him to come that night, weeks ago? "I'll be fine."

They kissed. He still didn't know whether or not Lillian was a good kisser, but she certainly put her all into it. Kissing was easy enough to reciprocate, so he kissed her back every time she kissed him, and he tried to be as enthusiastic as she was. His fly came undone, and she slid her hand into his pants. He wasn't hard, but she massaged him there. "Get the condoms," she told him, and he did. When he turned back around she was on the bed, completely bare. Her dress was on the floor.

Her expression was vulnerable: her eyes were wide, she was biting her lip, her arm was over her breasts, squeezing them to her, and her legs were crossed. "Don't keep me waiting," she told him.

He was stuck to the floor. He held the condoms uselessly in his hands.

"Elias," he heard her say. "Snap out of it."

"Right," he said, something in him detaching. "Right. Okay." He stepped towards her. He felt like he was moving in slow motion. One step at a time, so slow, one knee on the bed until he was over her. She flipped him gently over to his back and took both his pants and underwear off at once.

_I can do this. I can do this_.

She put her head between his legs. He closed his eyes.

_I'm going to be fine_.

She put the condom on him.

_God forgive me_.

"Stop," he said. Just as she was arranging herself over him. She paused, which surprised him. He really didn't think she would listen.

"What?" she said, and then anger rose in her voice. "God, Eli, _what_? What is it?"

"I don't want to."

"You don't _want_ to?"

"No."

"Well, that's too bad," she said. "You have to. Eli, you have to."

"I know…"

"Am I so terrible?" she asked him. "Am I so disgusting, that you can't even pretend? You can't make believe that you enjoy it, or just endure it, so that we can be honest to the Father and say that we did it? What is wrong with you? Why don't you have any sense of self-preservation?"

"Well, hold on—"

"I'm tired of this, Eli,” she said. “This back and forth between me and you. It's been years. _Years_. There has to be something else going on. There has to be. What is the matter with you?"

"I…"

"Spit it out!" She used her hand to jerk him off, to keep him hard. "Is there another girl? Or did you lie to me before, about trauma? Did someone hurt you?" She lined herself up, and penetrated herself with him. He was too paralyzed to move, so he closed his eyes. This was not happening to him. This was happening to someone else, very far away. He breathed. _Relax_. He felt like he could hear the clock all the way from the living room.

In, out.

_Tick, tock_.

"Shh," she said softly. Her voice was so soft now as she leaned in close to him. He could feel her breasts on his chest as she rode him. “Bear it. Doesn't it feel good? It feels good to me.”

Was she talking to him?

"I've wanted this for so long. To feel you inside." She moaned as she picked up speed.

He wasn't too aware of how the rest of it went. He said and did nothing. She stopped eventually; who knew how long it lasted, minutes or hours. She seemed satisfied with herself, and with the fact that there was come in the condom before she threw it away. He felt numb as she climbed back onto the bed and cuddled close to him. They were both still naked.

"I know you liked it," she said against his skin as she kissed his chest, his collarbone, his neck. He didn't know why she kept talking. "You're just a quiet person. That's okay. Everyone makes love differently."

He felt nothing, and fell asleep.


	13. Chapter 13

Church was always a source of comfort for Elias. It was something that had been in his life since he was born, certainly for as long as he could remember. A consistent presence, unmoving and unchanging. The pews were still the same pews he'd sat on at fourteen years old, and as a babe in his mother’s arms. He grew up with the small stage, with his father atop it, with the daycare room and the offices and the mosaics and the cross. As much as the anxiety in his life pressed on him from all sides, church usually helped him feel more at ease. God was with him here.

As his father took the stage, the crowd stood up. As usual, his mother was to his side, and Lillian was on his other. He didn't dwell on their night together because he could not really remember it. She says that they made love, and that he enjoyed himself, so he believed her. He had no problem with not thinking about it too much.

"Good morning, members of the Movement and children of God."

A chorus of _good mornings_.

"Before I begin, let us join hands and bow our heads."

Morning prayer was important. Elias did as he was told, and the large room was silent. As a child, during prayer, he would usually just sit there, but he'd long outgrown simply waiting for prayer to be over. He always prayed.

_Holy Father,_

_It is a lovely Sunday morning. I am grateful to be here with my friends and family and everyone who supports me. I am grateful for you who has kept me going. I am sorry that I'm so disappointing. I love you._

He usually kept it short. These days, he didn’t have much to say.

His father's voice came first: "Amen."

Followed by the chorus.

"Now," his father began. "Today I have something serious to share with you guys. Something a little scary. I'm still researching it myself—I'm sure some members of the Household have noticed I've been absent more than usual. It's because of this reason.” He paused to capture the attention of the room. His tone, when he said it, was dark and foreboding. “God is coming."

The words fell upon the room like a lead weight. His father let everyone soak them in.

"Don't ask me how or when yet, because the truth is I don't know. But I'm working hard to figure out the best course of action so that we may meet Him correctly, and ascend into Heaven as we're meant to. Until I find out, I want us all to cherish the time we have with our earthly possessions. Love as much as you can. Be kind to others. Pray and practice. He is coming for you."

"When?" Someone from the pews called. Elias recognized her as Daniella Tran, a slightly older woman with a few children far younger than Elias. They would be in the daycare room. He took the moment to gaze across the other familiar faces, first of people around his age: Patrick, Noelle, Mako, Bethany, Lauren. All of their parents. Some of their children. Lauren's belly hadn't started rounding, but Elias knew that she was pregnant.

"Before the new year."

Several gasps were elicited around the room, echoes of _that's so soon_. Elias met Lillian's eyes.

"Don't despair," his father said. "My sermon today is about death, and how to feel about it. There's no need to be afraid. You see…"

He went on.

***

Naturally, Halloween wasn't celebrated by Elias or his family. Truth be told, he didn't even learn what it was until he was probably around thirteen or so when someone let it slip in church that it was coming up. He tried to remember who that someone was—was he called Reese, or Reid? Not that it mattered; he was no longer in the community.

The evening of Halloween, most members of the Fellowship were in the study, taking up space amongst the table and loveseat there. Elias had spent a lot of time in his childhood in the study, with its many bookshelves and comfortable environment. It was a cozy area, and not very well suited to meetings, if you asked him, but everyone had insisted on piling in anyway. Elias's father wasn't around, but his mother was. She kept the conversation going. "It's no trick. You know Aaron would never."

"I don't know if I'm strong enough to handle this," Lauren's mother said to her. Lauren wasn't here; most of the young adults weren't. Elias wouldn't be, if he didn't live here. "My baby girl," she started to tear up, "she won't even get to give birth. I'll never get to be a grandmother…" She began to cry, and several of the woman came to comfort her, including Elias's mother.

"It'll be okay. The baby won't disappear, dear. They will be with you and her in Heaven. You won't miss out on anything."

"How can you be sure?"

"Remember the Father’s sermon. Death isn't goodbye," she said. "When the rapture comes, do you think any of us will be saying goodbye to each other?"

They continued to chat. Elias was leaning against the doorway's entrance, his arms wrapped around himself. He didn't know what to think. It didn't even occur to him to question his father; the world would end before the new year. He was as sure of this as anything else.

The question, then, was how to spend his time before then. There was the most obvious question: should he keep spending time with Reuben? Should he keep sinning, and breaking the rules of the church, right up until the end? But he didn't feel any further from God than he had in any other time of his life. In fact, he felt closer than ever; he punished himself frequently and apologized for his actions when necessary. He was perfectly self-aware. And he was honest to God: every apology was sincere.

He could not convert Reuben. That idea was not one worth entertaining. He didn't want to, either. He couldn't imagine Reuben falling into the mix of his family and his beliefs. He just didn't fit. Elias should probably view this as a red flag, maybe, but he saw it more as good fortune. He wasn't sure why.

"What should we do?" The question wasn't only on his mind.

"Just as Father said."

"What should I tell my children?" A man asked. His name was Harry, and he had several children. Only the first was the Father's, but all of the rest were his own, and they were all relatively young. Elias tried to recollect their ages—six, or seven?

"Don't tell them anything," his mother said. "There's no need to worry them. If they're being raised right, they won't have anything to worry about."

"What about you?" Lillian's mother spoke directly to Elias. It made everyone's heads turn to him in the doorway. He dropped his crossed arms, stood straighter. "You and my Lily?"

He glanced to his mother. She only looked at him expectantly with the rest of them.

"Well," he started. "Life goes on until it doesn't. We're—we're still in love. So we'll marry. I'll give her a… a child—so that we may be together in Heaven, as with Lauren and her own."

"You two do make a very beautiful couple," his mother said.

"I bet your child would have her red hair—I bet it would be a son!"

"That would be lovely," he forced out. He felt woozy.

"Lily is quite lucky," her father said. "To have gotten you. I'm sure she's very grateful, however she may act."

"She is kind to me."

"Of course she is. We raised her that way.”

Elias could see her in his head, flashes from the other night: her skin, her smell, her small gasps. “I… if you’ll excuse me.” He backed away from them, slightly unsteady on his feet.

"Are you alright?" his mother asked him.

"Yes, mother. I just—I'm going to lie down." He nodded politely at them by way of goodbye. "Excuse me."

He heard their goodbyes and well wishes as he left them, like echoes against cave walls. The trip from the den to his bedroom wasn't a very long one but each step felt like a mile, and his dizziness got worse. He gripped the railing on the staircase for dear life as he climbed up.

Upon sight of the bathroom before his bedroom he beelined for it, his stomach suddenly and irreversibly flipping over itself. He rushed in, took care to shut the door gently and locked it fast. He backed away from it like it might hurt him, like everyone in the world was behind it and pounding on the wood, demanding to know: _What is wrong with you?_ He heard Lillian again—not her words, but instead her steady chorus of _Shh_. It rang in his ears, a song with no melody.

Thankfully, he made it to the toilet in time to throw up into it. It had been a long time since he'd thrown up, and the experience was so unpleasant that afterward he immediately forced himself to his feet and to the sink. He used the water to rinse out his mouth, leaning heavily against the counter, and he brushed his teeth for ages and ages, his eyes locked on himself in the mirror. He looked quite sad.

He spit, washed his brush, rinsed his mouth again.

He looked at his eyes. Was this really the life that he wanted? To do whatever he was told, to follow the plan for the rest of his life as he knew it, which wasn’t going to be very long to begin with?

To be sad?

"Fuck this," he said. Very, very quietly. He thought of Lillian's parents downstairs, waiting expectantly on a marriage, on a grandchild. They would be waiting for quite a long time, he decided.

_I want him_. The thought seemed dangerous, and it was. He said it out loud: "I want him."

The decision was made.

Elias moved as silently as he could. He unlocked the bathroom, opened the door with care not to creak, and stepped his way on feather-light feet across the wooden floor to his bedroom. He closed that door.

First he went for his knife, hidden in its usual spot underneath all his clothes in one of his dresser drawers. He held it against his arms. The previous damage had just started to truly scar, as well. But it couldn't be helped. He prepared himself for damage. He prayed: _I love you. I'm sorry. I love you, I love you, I love you_. He cut himself.

After that, he re-bandaged his arms, ignoring the sting and the red seeping through. He put on a different long-sleeve, something easier to move in. His favorite shoes were downstairs by the front door, so he would have to do with another pair that was already in his room. He put those on, tied the laces, and stood in front of his mirror.

He'd changed since Reuben had last seen him. He'd gotten his hair cut, and broken out in a few places. The last time he spoke to Reuben was their fight, and Elias became excited suddenly, because he could tell Reuben everything was different now, finally, he could give Reuben what he'd always wanted from him. And Reuben would love him still, and accept him, and help him. They could be a real couple together—

"Where is Elias?"

His father's voice. Faster than light, Elias rushed to hide the mess of evidence in his room: the bandages, the old shirt, the knife. He slipped his shoes back off and went to his door. He gathered his composure before opening it.

His mother was answering his father from downstairs, where he must have entered through the front door. "In his room. He wasn't feeling well."

"I'm here," he called. He went down the steps. It was much easier a task than going up before. He felt light on his feet, almost bouncy. He was so excited. He tried not to smile so much; he didn't want to appear manic. "I'm feeling better," he said to his father. "There's nothing to worry about." Lying had become something thrilling, not scary.

"Why don't you join the group, then?" his father asked.

"I was here for a while."

His mother nodded. "Yes, he was. Don't worry, Aaron, he's doing fine."

"I'd like to talk to him, then, if he's done socializing."

"By all means."

Elias was not asked to follow, or addressed to go anywhere, but when his father turned his back on him and began towards the empty kitchen he knew to stay close behind. In the kitchen the chatter from the den could still be heard, though it was very faint. His father turned around and looked him up and down. Elias didn't dare move. "So?"

Elias exhaled hard, unaware that he was even holding his breath to begin with. "She didn't tell you herself? You said she would tell you."

"I did not ask her yet.”

"Well." Elias felt bad, being reminded of the event, but only for a moment. Nothing could overshadow what he planned to do tonight. So he smiled, genuine for reasons his father would never know. "Yes, we did. We had sex. It was amazing."

“Really?”

“Yes.”

His father smiled. “Well, I’m proud of you.”

"You shouldn't be. It was long overdue."

In a bizarre twist of events, his father hugged him. His arms went right around his wounds, and it hurt so badly Elias fought hard not to make a whining noise in his grip. "I love you, Eli," his father said. "You know I do."

"Yes, father," he said. "I love you, too."

"Above all but God himself."

"Above all but God," Elias agreed.

"And you used a condom?"

That sense of deep unpleasantness rose again, but Elias stifled it. He bowed his head, in a mockery of being embarrassed. "Yes, sir."

His father ruffled his hair. "Good. I'll let you go, then. Come to me in the morning, I have something to share with you."

"Yes, sir." Elias grinned inwardly— _You will never see me again_.

Once he left, Elias casually followed him up the stairs, and their paths split on the way to their respective bedrooms. Elias put his shoes back on. He reached for his ring. The cross on it faced him boldly, and with love. He slipped it onto his ring finger and flexed his hand a few times, admiring it. Then he slipped his knife in his back pocket and went for his window.

He was on the second floor, but it _was_ possible to get from his window to the ground safely. There was a massive tree just to the left of his window, and a little bit of trim on the house to steady himself on. He used to climb up and down all the time as a child, so surely he could do it again? He could feel that his wounds were reopened from his father's hug. He would have to push through that pain. He opened the window.

He managed to get down fairly quietly. It hit him, that he was really doing this, once the cold night breeze brushed his skin, and the leaves sang with it all around him. He moved slowly and carefully, but he was still kind of out of breath once he dropped onto the grass, either from exerting himself or quiet exhilaration.

There were only two main obstacles ahead of him now. There was the matter of getting to town without a bike or a vehicle, and there was the matter of Brother Desmond.

Desmond was going to be on guard, because that was his job. The last time that Elias had spoken any words to Brother Desmond had been when he'd spent time in the basement. He didn't know how he was going to deal with the man. There would be no way to reason with him, and he had no money or other means with which to bribe him. But Desmond had a key to his father's truck. And Elias would never be able to take Desmond on in any sort of fight, but he did have a knife.

Shaking in the wind, Elias slithered his way around the sides of his house, ducking under the view of the windows, until he could peek around the corner and see the Brother. Desmond was standing with his back leaning against the wall on the porch. He was smoking a cigarette; he seemed to be the only one in the church allowed to do so. Elias adjusted his foot. He could see Desmond's eyes begin to shift his way, so he ducked against the wall out of sight, his heart racing. He closed his eyes and focused on calming his breathing. Desmond didn't bother with useless questions like _Who's there?_ Elias could hear the familiar sound of footsteps descending the porch steps.

Elias was frozen. He couldn't turn back now. It was time to fight back, for the first time in his life. Anything could happen here.

He didn't bother waiting for Desmond to round the corner and have the advantage of surprise on him, so he stepped away from his hiding spot into the dim porch light. Desmond stopped advancing. "Elias?"

"Hi, Brother," Elias said. He stepped closer to him. His words came out on his exhale. "Pretty night, isn't it?"

"What are you doing."

"I just wanted to step outside for a few minutes." Elias was standing directly in front of him now. "Actually, I…" He held out his hand. "I need father's key to the truck."

The truck wasn't far from them. It sat in the driveway, an old white Ford Ranger. Desmond and Elias both glanced toward it, but Desmond's eyes came back to him. He puffed on his cigarette. "For?"

"I'm leaving." It felt delightful to say it. "Forever. Just let me go."

Desmond raised a brow. “Your father will kill you.”

"He wouldn't," Elias said. "He loves me."

"Not after something like this."

"It doesn't matter," he said. "None of you will ever see me again."

"You're making a mistake." Desmond dropped his cigarette and stepped on it. He said, "I cannot wait to correct it."

"Brother." Elias emphasized his outstretched hand.

Desmond reached into his back pocket and pulled out his keyring, which held loads of keys. Elias wasn't sure what all of them might be for. He confidently pulled out what Elias assumed was the one to the truck. He put it into Elias's hand. Instead of retreating, he gripped Elias's hand in his own. Elias started, "What—"

It quickly turned into a scuffle: Desmond flipped Elias so that he was suddenly on his back, and Elias wriggled and kicked and fought so that he couldn't be pinned down. Desmond was naturally quiet, but Elias fought to keep his voice down, because he didn't want anyone to come running. He managed to get out of Desmond's grasp by some miracle, and when he realized the key was still in his fist he bolted for the truck. Desmond scrambled after him and knocked him over from the back. Desmond took the key. "No!" he shouted, out of instinct. Desmond threw the key across the yard and flipped Elias over, brought his hands to his neck and pressed hard.

Elias fought and scratched at the hands blocking his airway. He was still doing his best to squirm, but conscious, lucid thought was quickly leaving him. He locked eyes with Desmond above him and fear flushed through him. Because Desmond wasn't angry, or struggling. There was no conflict here, for him. Just bored, lifeless eyes. Desmond might really kill him.

Elias brought his hand to his back pocket, where his knife was. He slid it out as best as he could without attracting attention. With a steel grip, he closed his eyes and stabbed Desmond in the side as hard as he could.

He heard Desmond shout in pain. The knife went in surprisingly deep, tearing through skin and flesh. Elias yanked it out, unwilling to let go of it for even a second, else it might be turned on him. He took advantage of Desmond's surprise to escape and run in the direction of the key.

"Please, please." He felt blood on his hand still clutching the knife. He was too scared to look to Desmond. He focused on the grass and dirt below him, scanning quickly for the hint of something shiny among it. "Please, God. If you're there."

He saw it then, lying in the dirt a few yards away, and nearly screamed in relief at the sight. He ran for it, and turned back towards the house, the truck, Desmond.

Desmond, who was back on his feet again, cradling his thigh. He was glaring at Elias now, the lifeless look he’d had gone and replaced with a genuine hatred. Harrowing. "I'm sorry," Elias said sincerely.

"Run," Desmond said. When Elias said nothing, he gestured with his arm. " _Go_. I will enjoy hunting for you."

That was his job, after all. Assassin, executioner.

Desmond grinned ear to ear for him. "Happy Halloween."

The sight had Elias shaking in his shoes, and he didn't say anything, or waste any more time. He went to the truck and opened the driver's side door. He didn't know how to drive, but he would have to figure it out. Once he revved the ignition, it would be loud enough to attract the attention of everyone in the house. Once he turned the car on, he would have to move.

He didn't bother with the headlights despite the darkness. He put the key in, looked down to locate the brake and accelerator, and turned on the engine. As fast as he could, he backed out of the driveway, and began driving.


	14. Chapter 14

Elias didn’t drive all the way to Reuben's house in his father's truck. Partly because it would be silly, knowing he'd be hunted down, but mostly because he was not nearly confident enough at driving to do so.

He drove while there were hardly any other homes or cars around. Once he got off the farmland and into society a little bit he did turn the headlights on. Once he could see the town, he parked the car, left the lights on on purpose, and began walking.

He didn't know how to get to Reuben's house from wherever he was. He must be miles and miles away. And he had no phone, no food, no water or money. He was helpless.

But there was really nothing to do but walk, so he kept walking. The darkness gave him the illusion of safety. He walked along the side of the road until the sun began to rise and his feet were killing him. At one point his shoes were so uncomfortable on his feet that he took them off and carried them, choosing instead to walk with his socks. He was in a suburban area by sunrise, and tired out of his mind. He watched the area wake up. Eventually, a male jogger ran past him from behind him. He scared the shit out of Elias. _Call out to him_ , he thought, _ask to use his phone_. Elias was much too anxious to do something like that, and besides, the jogger was too far away by now.

It was a viable idea, though. Elias found a bench and sat on it. He vowed to himself that the next person who came jogging past him, he would ask. Sitting felt so good he almost moaned.

He nearly fell asleep waiting. It would be another twenty minutes before someone came by him, only they weren't jogging, they were on a bicycle and coming his way. He stood quickly before they would ride past him. "Excuse me," he said to the rider, rather louder than he meant to, but they continued on. He felt a tap on his shoulder and nearly screamed, but when he turned around it was only an old man. The man must have been seventy. He had no hair, and a white beard. He was dressed in a warm brown sweater. "Sorry to startle you," he said.

"It's alright."

"Why are you out here?"

"I need help," Elias said. "Do you have a phone that I can borrow, just for a second?"

"I do. You need to make a call?"

"Yes. I have no place to go."

The old man nodded. "I understand. Come with me, I'll show you to my house."

Elias saw no reason to deny. It would be out of sight, and the man seemed harmless. "Okay."

The house was the one he had been waiting in front of, a tiny white-paneled thing with a cozy untrimmed yard. "What's your name?" the old man asked as he opened the door to let Elias inside.

"Elias."

"My name is Marshall."

"It's nice to meet you."

Marshall nodded, "Likewise," and went for his phone, which was sitting on his coffee table.

The interior of the home was as cozy as the yard, small and with an abundance of furniture and items. Elias noticed an old piano in the corner, cluttered with boxes and books around it. The walls seemed to be covered completely, either with posters or photo frames, making the room feel smaller. "Here." Marshall handed the phone to Elias. "Call whomever you need to."

Elias clutched it in his hands. "Thank you," he said. "Thank you."

It was a simple flip phone. Elias fumbled with the buttons before hitting the green CALL.

Reuben answered on the third ring. "Hello?"

"It's me," Elias said.

"Eli? This isn't James's phone—"

"I did it," Elias said.

"What?"

"I ran from them, Reuben. I did it." He glanced at the old man, but he had started towards the kitchen. He didn't give any indication that he was listening. "I need you," he whispered.

"You'll have me—where are you?"

"I don't know. A man took me in."

"A man?"

"Nothing like that. An elderly man. He let me use his phone."

"Well, find out where you are. I'm getting in my car now."

"Okay." Elias made uncertain steps around the furniture and into the kitchen. Marshall had prepared a cup of tea for him. "Um, excuse me?"

"Hm?"

"Where are we?"

"Sterling Avenue," Marshall answered. "Eighty-two."

"Thank you," Elias said to him. He spoke into the receiver. "Did you hear that?"

"I'm on my way. Give me, ah, GPS says thirty—give me twenty minutes, okay?"

"I'll be here."

"And Elias," Reuben started, but he didn't continue.

Elias prompted him to continue. "Yes?"

"I'm proud of you," he said. "Really fucking proud. You have no idea."

Elias closed his eyes. "It wasn't easy."

"I know it wasn't. Hold tight for me, alright?"

"Yes, yes, of course."

After he ended the call, Marshall handed him the cup of tea in exchange for the phone. Elias sipped at it, and then unintentionally downed the entire thing. Marshall chuckled and poured him some more. "Is everything okay, then?"

"Yes, sir," Elias said. "I'll be okay."

"No need for 'sir.' I'm hardly an authority over you."

"Sorry."

"Do you want to talk about it at all?"

"Um." Elias did his best to sip at the tea, though he could definitely inhale it like he did the first. He was just so exhausted. "Not really. I'm sorry."

"Nothing to apologize for." Marshall shook his head. "Don't suppose you mind if I tell you about me?"

Elias gestured for him to go on, and he listened intently as Marshall spoke.

He learned that Marshall was sixty-eight years old, and that he was a retired schoolteacher. He had been married to a woman named Ada since he was young, twenty-three years old, until he eventually discovered, or rather accepted, that he was a gay man when he met another man named Louis back when he was thirty-eight. They had fallen in love, Marshall told him, and so Marshall got divorced, and he was kicked out of his kid's lives until recently. He had faced a lot of discrimination throughout the years for being a gay schoolteacher, but he and Louis went through everything together.

Sadly, he told Elias that Louis died four years ago from lung cancer. Marshall had been alone in this home ever since. He was grateful, though, that he got to see his kids on occasion nowadays, though they were of course grown and with children of their own.

Elias listened to this story in fascination. He was entranced by the very idea of getting married so young and still finding yourself later on in life, and being able to live as you were meant to in spite of that, for years to come. He couldn't believe how confidently Marshall was able to talk about being gay, when Elias couldn't even say the words. "Why don't you teach anymore?" he asked him.

"I'm just too old," Marshall said. "I've lost the patience for it. I'd hate to become as crotchety as the students think I am."

Elias smiled. "I would have loved to have you for my teacher."

"Mm, and where did you go to school?"

"I was homeschooled."

"Well, that explains it!" Marshall laughed. "Anything is better than that. I bet your parents were strict teachers."

Elias wanted to say, "You have no idea," but he was interrupted by a knock on the door. They both went to answer it, Elias moving much faster. He peeped through the doorhole first, grossly paranoid that Desmond might have found him so quickly, but it was Reuben. He opened the door fast and they stared at each other.

Reuben was panting, out of breath as though he’d ran here instead of speeding the whole way, and frozen at the shock of seeing Elias in this strange neighborhood, in this unfamiliar house. He was wearing dark pants, a polo, and a name-tag with his name on it. He must have come from work—did he leave during his shift? They both broke the moment to hug each other with side splitting strength at the same time, Elias's arms going up and around his neck while Reuben grabbed him around the middle.

"Thank you," Elias said against his throat. He wanted to kiss him so badly, but he knew it would be in poor taste to do so in front of Marshall. Though thinking about it, Marshall probably wouldn't mind that much.

"It's nothing," Reuben told him, squeezing him tighter. "It's fucking nothing."

When they let go, Elias pulled Reuben inside and shut the door. He gestured to Marshall. "Reuben, this is Marshall. Marshall, this is my—my friend, Reuben."

"It's nice to meet you." Reuben held out his hand, and Marshall took it. When he spoke, though, it was directed to Elias.

"I appreciate the attempt, but I've been at this for quite a while at this point," he said, smiling. "I know when a man is in love."

Elias flushed. Reuben took his hand and squeezed it. "It's no problem," Marshall assured Reuben. "I'm gay myself. I'm jealous, though—I didn't find out until I was a little older. You're lucky."

It was bizarre for Elias to think of himself as lucky, but he couldn't deny that he felt lucky for having Reuben at all. "Thank you for sheltering him, sir—Marshall?" Marshall nodded. "I'm going to take him back to mine."

"Of course. Here, Elias." Marshall grabbed a nearby pocket notebook and a pen. He wrote something on it, ripped the page out, folded it once and handed it to Elias. "My address and phone number. If you ever need me for anything. I'm not a great text messager, though, I'll warn you."

"Thank you, Marshall," Elias said. He felt warmth in his heart from the kindness. "Thank you."

He felt the warmth even as he stepped back out into the cold, even as he sat in the familiar passenger's seat of Reuben's sedan. "He was nice," Reuben commented.

"I'm so lucky," Elias replied. He was really realizing it. He'd escaped—he could do whatever he wanted. He had someone who loved him, and someone else, now, who would be kind to him.

"Yes, you are. So what happened?"

Elias leaned his head against the window as Reuben got the car moving, and closed his eyes. "I just got fed up with it all," he said. "I—I snuck out of my bedroom window. I stole my father's car keys."

"You _what_?"

Elias smiled and looked sideways at him through lidded eyes. "Not his car—his _truck_. I drove it for at least a few miles. Then I ditched it." He closed them again. "Because they're—they're gonna look for me."

"So what do you want to do?"

"Um." He yawned. "Hide from them forever."

"Hey, are you okay?"

"I just walked the rest of the way. From the truck to—to wherever Marshall lives. But I'm fine."

"You can sleep," Reuben said, and as if his words were magic, Elias did.


	15. Chapter 15

The first step in changing Elias’s appearance was to cut his hair, and all Reuben had was a pair of dull clippers, so Elias, for the first time since he was a child, had a buzz cut.

"I look nine again," he said unhappily to the mirror. His hair was all over the floor, some loose and tickling on his neck.

Reuben kept running his hands over his head. "I think you look cute."

"You said I was cute before."

"It would take a lot to make you not cute," Reuben said.

The next step was hair dye. Elias opted for black. "You shouldn't do a light color," Reuben had advised him. "Because your hair is already kind of light, and I'm not into redheads. Plus, any fun color like blue or green would look great on you, but it would attract too much attention. And black hair would bring out your eyes." So, really, Reuben opted for black.

Elias didn't mind the look of the black hair. It made him feel kind of dark and mysterious, and Reuben wasn't wrong about the eyes; his were so blue, especially now.

After the hair came the clothes. "I can never wear this outfit again, because it was the last outfit that Desmond saw."

"Desmond?" Reuben asked him.

"Yeah. He's—he'll be the one looking for me. It won't be good if he finds me."

So his outfit was ditched, and he lived solely in Reuben's clothes, which were all too big for him, but not by that much. Reuben favored the look of sweaters and jeans, of all shades and colors, so Elias usually wore that ensemble. Now they sat in the living room together with Holly, who they had just updated on the situation.

She said, “So what I'm hearing is that you ran away from your controlling family to be gay with my best friend, and we're roommates now?”

He shrugged sheepishly, shying from the word _gay_ , even now. “Yes?”

"Can I do anything to help?" she asked. They sat on opposite sides of the couch to each other, with Reuben in-between.

"Um, just don't let anyone know I'm here."

"You could also pay for the drugs and alcohol," Reuben offered casually.

She rolled her eyes. "Yes, and then leave the apartment so you two can have your fun in peace without me?”

“Come on, Eli deserves a break, he’s been through a lot,” he said. "And besides, it's not like I _kick_ you out. Your serious boyfriend’s mansion awaits you happily.”

“It’s not a _mansion_ ,” she defended, but she sighed in acquiescence and stood from the couch, stretching as she did. "Fine. I'll pay for whatever so long as you clean up this mess." She gestured to the apartment, where the evidence of their hair misadventure was still prominent on the floor and the trash leftover from the takeout they all shared was on the coffee table.

"Naturally."

"And hey, Elias."

"Yes?" he said.

"I know we're hardly super close, but I can imagine how hard it is to leave your family.” Her voice had taken on a more heartfelt tone. “And I know you must have had a serious reason. So I wanted to let you know, you know—I'm happy for you. This is a good thing you’ve done.”

He smiled at her, but her kind words meant nothing. She didn’t know anything about him or his family. He appreciated them though, he really did, so he said, “Thanks, Holly.”

Once she left, Reuben pulled the weed from his room and put some music on. He opened the balcony window and moved all the furniture to clear some space. He didn't bother to tell Elias to get off the couch as he lifted up the side and moved it a couple inches.

Elias spent the next few hours calming down. The weed helped. He made goals for himself as Reuben introduced him to new music, sang to him, danced with him. He decided that he would tell Reuben everything. He would be completely open about what was going on with him from now on, because Reuben was his—his boyfriend, and deserved to know.

A particularly cheery song came on the bluetooth speaker, so Reuben took Elias by the hands and pulled him so that his feet were on top of his own. He danced, taking Elias with him as best as he could, until they collapsed together on the carpet, laughing.

"This is crazy.” Elias was breathless.

"What is?"

"You are! But everything. Fuck." His hands went to his cheeks in an embarrassed motion, though he didn't feel embarrassed, just hot. They went from his cheeks to his hair, feeling the absence of it. "My hair is gone."

"It'll grow back."

The world would end before his hair would grow back. Elias didn't say this until he remembered his new goals, so he repeated the thought aloud: “But the world will end first."

Reuben laughed a little, not getting it. "What?"

They were both lying there on the carpet, high out of their minds. Elias sat up on his elbow and cradled his head in his hand as he looked down at Reuben, who was on his back. "My father says the rapture will be here before the end of the year."

"What?"

"The rapture. The end of the world as we know it."

"That's not true."

"Father has never been wrong before."

Reuben scoffed. "Elias." He brought a hand up to cradle Elias's cheek gently. "You were in a cult."

Elias started to speak, paused, and frowned at him. "No—"

"Yes, Elias," he said. "It's one thing to be… religious. It's another to—to police the activities of church members. To tell them with confidence when the rapture will be. To arrange weddings, for fuck's sake."

Elias frowned harder. It made sense, but he couldn't accept it. "No."

"I'm sorry," Reuben said. "I know you grew up with it, and it's all you know. And I understand why it feels bad to realize. But it was a cult."

Could this mean his father was wrong, then? Would the world not end?

Reuben sat up to grab hold of Elias's face, and brought their lips together. "It's okay. You're safe now, here with me.”

"Yeah?" Elias asked when he pulled back.

"Yeah. I won't let them hurt you. Not again."

Elias kissed him, collapsed into him. They molded together like clay until they were but one piece. Elias moved to be on top of him, and tasted him. Reuben tasted nothing like Lillian, smelled nothing like her, sounded nothing like her when he moaned, when he gasped. "I'm yours," Elias said against his mouth, with his eyes closed.

"Is that what you want?" Reuben asked him.

"Yes, more than anything."

"Then you're mine," Reuben said. "And no one else can have you."

A tremor went through Elias at the words. He expressed himself with his body by encompassing Reuben entirely, his legs on either side of him, his mouth open to his. It felt so good, it all felt so good, until Reuben's hand went where he wanted it to go—really, truly, he wanted it, but he froze anyway.

"What is it?" Reuben noticed something was wrong, he always noticed. He took his hand away.

"I…" Elias closed his eyes and he was back in his bedroom again, overshadowed by her and her voice. _Bear it_ , she had said. But he didn't want to bear it, he wanted to want it. “I have to tell you something first. But please don’t be mad at me.”

Reuben's eyes were so loving and trusting that it hurt. "You can tell me. I want to know it all."

"Lillian." His voice constricted with the guilt of it. How could he do that to Reuben? How could he let what happened happen? "She. She made me."

Sobering, Reuben sat up and brought Elias with him, so that he was mostly sitting in Reuben's lap. "She made you what?"

"I didn't want to."

"She made you what, Eli?"

He couldn't bear to say the words. He still could only barely remember it, and remembering it hurt him so much. Not physically, but something inside of him. "Fuck her," he said, as steadily as he could in the face of Reuben's trust. His eyes were downcast. He was scared to look up and see Reuben's reaction. He expected anger and frustration, the same that was shown to him before when this subject came up, more of it even. Too many seconds passed without a word between them. Eventually Reuben said, "Eli, look at me," so Elias did.

Reuben wasn't angry with him. He could tell this immediately. Instead his brows were drawn together in concern. "You didn't want to?"

"No," Elias said quickly. Saying it out loud to someone was like lifting a huge weight from his shoulders. "And I told her that, but I did it anyway because I had to."

"She raped you."

Elias stopped. "Well… no, but—"

"You told her no, and she made you have sex with her anyway." Reuben was speaking firmly. "Eli, that's rape."

Elias tried to laugh it off. "It wasn't that serious. She didn't—she didn't _force_ me, I didn't actually try to stop her—"

"Elias." Reuben rubbed his arms lightly. "It doesn't matter if she didn't hold you at gunpoint. You said no.”

"She was just doing what she was told to."

Reuben was cynical at the very notion of that, but he shook his head. "It doesn't matter."

Elias frowned. He had no more arguments to make. But it was too difficult to think of himself as someone that could be raped. "I don't," he stopped, stumbled over his words, "I don't want to talk about this anymore."

"Okay."

"You're not her."

"No, thankfully not."

"And I don't want her to stop me from being yours." Elias sat more fully on him so that, through their pants, their dicks were just touching. "Just remind me, okay? Remind me that you're not her."

So Reuben kissed his neck, and he was particular about rubbing his stubbled cheeks on Elias's skin. He came up slowly to his jawline, to his chin, to his lips. "I love you," he said against them. His hands dipped into Elias's underwear, cold fingers against warm skin.

His father's words: _Above all but God himself_. Elias's breath caught a little as he spoke. "More than anything," he said instead.

"More than anything," Reuben agreed. He tugged at Elias's shirt buttons. "Let's get our clothes off."

A spike of dread struck Elias as he recalled his scars. They were still bandaged, but Reuben would have questions and he wasn’t stupid. He would know what they were. Elias exhaled. _“_ I have just—just one more thing to tell you.”

“Okay.”

“A couple of weeks ago, I—I wasn’t feeling great, and I didn’t have you around—not that it’s your fault.”

“Just say it, dude.”

“I hurt myself again.” He pulled up the sleeve of Reuben’s sweater on his arm just enough to reveal the bandaging. “But I haven’t since then. I promise.”

Reuben’s eyes were on his wrist. Elias could still clearly see the scarring beneath it and how ugly it was. “I don’t want to take your sweater off.”

Reuben still said nothing. He rubbed his thumbs gently over the bandaging. “Okay.”

“Are you mad?”

“Of course I’m not. It’s upsetting, though. I wish you would have called me. I would have been there for you.”

Elias pulled the sleeve back over his wrist. “It’s not your job to save me from myself.”

“Isn’t it?” Reuben kissed him chastely. “Do you still want to…?”

“Yes,” Elias said. He knew what Reuben was asking. “Please kiss me again.”

Reuben did. Their mouths met and they both melted into it, the tension of the conversation dissipating with each shared breath. It was replaced with a different kind of tension, something at once lighter and heavier. The moment felt more serious: more was going to happen here, Elias realized, more than heavy petting or mouth stuff. Elias confessed, "I don't know how to do this."

Reuben smiled at him, dumb and sweet. He pulled Elias to his feet and along the hallway to his bedroom. Elias fell back onto the bed with as much grace as he felt he had, which was approximately none. Reuben grabbed a few things from his desk before joining Elias on the bed. He climbed up to him and leaned over him. "What'd you get?" Elias asked.

"Condom." He ripped the package open with his teeth, and shook the small bottle he held in his other hand daintily. "And lube."

"Can I put it on?"

"Of course, dude."

Reuben guided him, and Elias let himself fall back onto the pillows. His body felt completely vulnerable, so much so that he could feel his body flush at the feeling of being so open to someone else. When Reuben finally touched him, he breathed, “Yes.”

"I love you when you're like this."

"Like…?"

"Open," Reuben explained. "Helpless."

"Help me." Elias humped into his hand.

"I will." Reuben paused his movements to squeeze some of the lube onto his fingers. "God knows I will. I'm going to—touch you, are you ready?"

"Please."

Reuben's fingers were cold when they touched him. "Tell me if I hurt you."

Elias nodded and closed his eyes. He wanted to focus on this feeling. It was different than anything he'd ever felt before, and it didn't hurt at all, at least not yet. He tried to imagine Reuben's finger replaced with his dick, and he shivered. One finger went to two. Reuben worked him open slowly, so slowly. "I want to feel you," Elias said. He opened his eyes so that brown met blue.

"Are you ready for that?"

"Yes, yes." He wanted to say it, and he knew Reuben wanted him to say it, so he did: "Fuck me."

Reuben leaned forward to kiss him quickly. "'Kay."

It was a feeling bordering on ethereal, being here on Reuben’s bed, in Reuben’s clothes, with his family far from his mind. Reuben fucked him with love, and Elias felt it keenly. Every sensation of it was new and exciting; he was so full, of love and otherwise.

At one point he opened his eyes and Reuben was leaning over him, his hands on the bed, panting. "You're the one who looks helpless," Elias commented. Reuben shifted, just a little, and Elias sighed at the feeling.

"I feel helpless."

Elias smiled up at him, his teeth big and bright, satisfied at his honesty. This felt good, there was no reason to feel bad about this. This wasn't like with Lillian, this wasn't like anything in the world. If he weren't _meant_ to feel this way, it wouldn't feel this good. He knew, now, why they called it making love. He closed his eyes again. "You should—you should really fuck me now. I can take it."

"I don't know if _I_ can."

Elias peeked an eye open to see Reuben blushing above him. He brought his hands up to Reuben's neck to pull him down so their mouths could meet. Reuben rolled his hips and they moved together until he said, “Eli, I can't last—”

"That's okay—"

Reuben cut him off with his groans as he came. His body stuttered against Elias's as Elias kissed him through it: on his lips, on his nose, on his cheeks, everywhere he could reach.

After a few seconds, when he came back down to earth, he still did not move except to lift himself up a little to look down at Elias. “Sorry.”

Elias smiled. He recalled the moment ages ago, honestly not that long after they first met, when he came in his pants and apologized for it. "I liked it."

"I'll work on lasting. You're just _so_ —" He couldn't finish his sentence.

"You love me."

"I do. Let me finish you off."

Elias closed his eyes and nodded. "Please."

As Reuben moved, cleaned up, and maneuvered himself between Elias’s legs, he said, “This is my favorite part,” and then licked him.

Elias keened. "Mm, about what?"

"Men. You."

"You're good at it."

"I know."

Reuben gave him attention in a way that made him feel not only good but adored. Elias's hands went to Reuben's hair, to the curls that had begun to form there. Steadily the feeling rose upon him, warmth gathering all in one central place in his body where foreign tongue met skin. " _Reuben_ —"

He came loudly, for him, but Reuben didn't seem to mind. He swallowed and brought himself up to collapse on top of Elias after. They were both spent, content, satiated.

Elias stared at the ceiling. He felt very acutely the weight of Reuben on him, the warmth from his body, his limpness against Elias's leg. Elias felt on top of the world; this different world, where he used to be part of a cult instead of a religious denomination, and God did not, as he knew him, exist. "Nothing can touch me," he said aloud.

Reuben turned his head to look at him and agreed. "Nothing would dare.”

***

Sitting together in a cafe called Sunday Morning in the next town over, Elias did his best to explain to Reuben the reality of his situation.

"There are only two ways that you can leave the church," he told him. "Either you die, or you're excommunicated for some reason. It's unheard of to just up and leave on your own. At least I've never heard of it…"

"You mentioned some guy named Desmond before," Reuben said. Elias was in Reuben's clothes again, things he'd never worn before in his life. Today it was ripped jeans, a flannel, a hoodie over that, and ratty sneakers that were too big for him. They sat across from each other, their arms up on the table.

"Yes, Brother Desmond." Elias winced at the memory of his wicked grin. "It's his job to find and punish those who don't follow the rules."

"Jesus, Eli."

"It's easier to see it for what it is, from the outside looking in," Elias defended. "And until I'd started misbehaving, Desmond had never done anything to me. Nothing serious, anyway."

"So if no one's ever left your church before, then what would they do to you if they found you?"

Elias thought about it. “I’m the Father's son. And the Father is the head of the church. So I… I'd like to think they wouldn't kill me."

Reuben's eyes went wide, and his voice loud. " _Kill_ you?"

"Shh!" Elias said. "Yes, no—I don't know. Punishment for this kind of thing has to be severe. But my father has no other children, born in wedlock anyway."

Reuben stared down at the table in thought. They each had their own plate, but they were sharing a coffee—something Elias had never had before today. He sipped from it. He loved it; Reuben had gotten it very sweet, which he knew Reuben did specifically for him, because he knew Reuben usually had it bitter. "Have you been punished before?" Reuben asked him, looking up to meet his eyes.

“Yes, of course."

"What'd they do to you?"

Elias's brows drew together. "The worst was my punishment for leaving during service hours," he said. "That day I was going to—that day on the bridge. When I met you. I got in trouble for that, when I got back."

"That feels like a lifetime ago."

"I was cut,” he said, looking away. “On my legs. The bad ones you saw, the first time we did anything together. Desmond did them."

Reuben, either consciously or subconsciously, was gripping his fork hard. “That's fucking awful.”

"But that was the worst of it," Elias promised. "I've heard of some of what they've done to others. Desmond usually tortures them in his basement room. Ripped fingernails, substance injections… Gruesome stuff. He enjoys torture. He told me he'd enjoy hunting me down."

"I won't let him find you," Reuben said.

Elias didn't believe he'd be able to, but he honored the sentiment. "Thank you."

"He doesn't know where I live—nobody you know does. And as long as we have our fun in different cities, and we keep your hair and clothing in check, then once I save up enough with my job we can finally leave and do whatever we want to do."

It didn't sound realistic. Elias wanted to believe so badly that it would happen, though. "That all sounds nice."

"So now that you're free," Reuben started, "is there anything specific that you want to do?"

Elias brought his hands up to rest his chin in his palms on the table, and he closed his eyes. He could feel Reuben looking at him even with them closed. "I'd like to see what I've missed out on."

"Yeah? Like what?"

"You know, movies, and music." He leaned back in his seat to hug himself. He felt especially cozy all of a sudden, in this faraway cafe in the light of the afternoon, in Reuben's green flannel, soft and warm around him, smelling vaguely of Reuben but mostly of laundry soap. They’d just done laundry the night before, at the shared facility in Reuben’s apartment complex. He glanced at the ceiling. "Even the song playing overhead, I don't know it."

Reuben followed his glance and took a second to listen. "This place is pretty retro," he said, smiling slightly. "I wouldn't expect you to know this song. But it's by The Marvelettes. We can listen to it in the car, if you want, on the way home." This was something Elias enjoyed doing greatly. Their frequent trips to this town were often upwards of twenty minutes of driving. They mostly spent it talking about nothing, or everything, but Reuben would put music on too. Elias had gathered that Reuben's music taste was along the lines of classic rock, like Aerosmith and such, Elias didn't really know, but sometimes they'd just listen to the radio together. Reuben didn't discriminate with the songs he'd dance to, and from Elias's perspective he knew the lyrics—or at least the title—of every song in the world.

Just then, between them, Reuben's phone started ringing on the table. Both of their eyes went to it automatically. The caller ID on the screen read Elias's name. They looked at each other then, Elias's eyes wide.

"I—should I answer it?" Reuben asked.

"No. Wait—yes." It was James, it had to be. "Wait!" he said again, when Reuben lifted the phone from the table. "Don't. It's James's phone, but if my father is on the other end, then—"

"Okay." Reuben set the phone back on the table. "I guess I'll ditch this thing then."

Elias's face pinched. "I'm sorry."

"Dude, it's just a phone. Not even a very nice one. No worries."

"Still."

"Let's go," Reuben said. “Who cares about a phone? It's time to get your life started."

Elias grinned at him.


	16. Chapter 16

Reuben's life was simple, but still fascinating. Elias watched him go through the motions as an outsider. He worked most nights, from around ten at night to seven in the morning, and it was during these times that Elias felt very alone; he would be in Reuben's bed, with the lamp on, and the window open. He would stare at Reuben's ceiling and trace the marks there until his eyelids grew heavy, trying not to think of what Reuben was doing, what his family was doing, or what he thought he was doing with his life. He did always eventually get to sleep.

He would wake up to the sound of the shower running across the hall. He only stirred when he finally felt Reuben's warmth around him. Reuben crawled into bed with nothing but his underwear on, usually, and his skin was always so cold and fresh smelling from having just showered. Elias cuddled up to him, barely lucid, and they would fall asleep together, where they'd remain for another few hours until Elias woke up.

Elias lived his mornings by himself as well, because he always felt bad waking Reuben up. He helped himself to breakfast in the kitchen—he usually just had cereal, Lucky Charms or something ridiculously sugary like that, sometimes eggs and bacon if Reuben had it—and sat on the couch, with food in hand, watching TV until the smell of the food or Reuben's bladder drew him from the bed, after which Elias never let him retreat back into it.

But Reuben didn't work every night. He was a huge night owl, because of his shifts, and he took every opportunity he could to take Elias out, now that he was free to sleep in again and, thus, Elias was typically housebound. They would get high together and go out to eat at Sunday Morning for dinner, and then, usually, party.

Reuben's social life wasn't spectacular or anything, but he did have friends, old happy connections retained from high school and his brief college stint. Of course there was Holly, and her boyfriend Isaac, but also Richard, and Gemma, and, oh, Elias couldn't remember, someone beginning with Y. Yoichi, or Yuji, or something. Elias met all of these people, all at once, when he was driven to the local gay nightclub called Outlaws. Outlaws was a club in the downtown area, and even though it was in the same city, Elias felt safe going to a place like that. He remembered that night vividly because he was wearing his favorite shirt of Reuben's, a black shirt with a cat graphic on the front, and a jean jacket over that, which made him feel conspicuous, and out of place.

They met as a group by Gemma's car, which was a large red truck with many stickers on the back, including one that said "CONDOMS PREVENT MINIVANS."

"God, Reuben, look at those dark circles." This, Elias would learn, was Richard: a tall, tired looking man with darker circles under his eyes than Reuben, more pronounced by the paleness of his skin, and also eyeliner. "Get some sleep, would you?"

"Fuck off," Reuben said, smiling. "I want to introduce you guys to my friend. Everyone, this is Elias. Elias," he started, and went off then, pointing them out one by one. Richard, the stoner coworker; Gemma, the Girl With A Truck; Youjin, the one with the drugs; and Isaac, Holly's boyfriend, no further description needed.

"I wish I could say we've heard all about you," Gemma said, "but none of us have actually heard from Ben in, like, weeks, so."

"It's okay," Elias said, feeling small.

Reuben took his hand in his own, and squeezed. "Come on. You'll have fun, I'll make sure of it." 

Over the course of the night, Elias began to feel more comfortable around them. The drinks definitely helped—everyone there was old enough to drink, even though he wasn't, and the bartenders didn't ask him any questions. They grabbed a table near the dance floor and drank beer together. Holly and Isaac danced together nearby, to upbeat, rap-heavy songs. The music was loud enough to mute most of Elias's thoughts. He stuck to Reuben's side, his face warm and his body heavy. Reuben wasn't much of a public dancer, at least not yet.

Only an hour in, Youjin produced a baggie of white pills from under the table stealthily. Gemma and Holly whooped loudly, but the sound was drowned out by everything else. Elias eyed the pills as they passed the baggie around. Everyone each only grabbed one, except Reuben. None of them swallowed yet, presumably waiting to do so together.

Reuben didn't pass the bag to him. Instead, their eyes locked together, he said, or rather shouted, with the noise of the place, "You don't have to."

"What are they?" Elias asked him.

"E." He looked away, seeming… almost bashful? "Er, ecstasy. Party drug. It'll make you hyper and happy, if you take it."

"Should I?" He was genuinely curious. "Take it, I mean?"

Reuben shrugged. "If you want. I'm not taking it. I've already sort of charged myself with looking after you. So if _you_ want to, I mean, you can." 

Elias quickly parsed through what he knew about drugs. Beyond weed and the effects of that, he knew nothing. He filed _ecstasy_ away in his mental folder of things he would research on Reuben's laptop later, and nodded his head, "Yeah, okay."

The pill was a small, round, white thing that was easy enough to swallow, though the taste it left behind was unpleasant. They all took it together, with Reuben the only odd man out.

Youjin leaned forward with both hands on the table and gestured to Elias. "I know it's too late to point this out, but he probably shouldn't have had the whole pill. My bad, that's my bad."

"I'll take care of him," Reuben said. Elias blushed, feeling warm and safe. He was so curious, and grew more so by the minute—it seemed to be taking forever to feel anything, until all of a sudden it was an entire hour later and he was on the floor with his back against the wall, Reuben on one side and Gemma on the other, feeling flighty and weightless.

"Oh my God," he said. His body was tingling, and the music was so loud. He could hear every distinct instrument it felt like, could feel each beat in his heart. All the drinks they'd been working on sat abandoned on their table. All the rest of them, Holly and Isaac and Youjin and all of these strangers, this mass of unique people with lives and desires and brains and they were dancing in slow motion, all of them together and—

"You okay?" Reuben's voice came from beside him, so unfitting in this big loud room.

"God, yes. Fuck, yes. Hey, kiss me." Elias leaned to meet his lips, and Reuben let him, though he pulled away after. Elias responded by spitefully leaning his body fully onto him. It was so hot in this place, he really shouldn't, but he wanted Reuben's body as close as it could be.

"I knew you guys were together," Gemma said. Her eyes were dilated—did Elias's eyes look like that?

"Together," he said, drawing out the word. He couldn't hear himself say it over the music, so he shouted at her way louder than necessary. "Yes, we're together!"

"I can see that!" she shouted back, gesturing to them. Elias was coddled up in Reuben's arms, basically in his lap. He grinned realizing this, and he sat up to kiss Reuben again.

"Kiss me, kiss me," he said.

"I am," Reuben said against his lips.

Elias giggled. "We're kissing."

"Sort of."

"Everyone can see us."

"No one's looking."

"Mph." Elias opened his mouth against him, and they kissed in earnest, tongues sliding against each other. Elias could feel his heartbeat in his throat. Reuben tasted like the beer they'd been drinking, and like he always did, like Reuben. "No peeping," Elias spoke to the mysterious Other, who was surely watching them kiss. God, maybe.

"Hm?" Reuben pulled away.

"I want to dance now," Elias said, moving to get up. He fell over, but he picked himself back up quickly, all the way to his feet, and then looked to Reuben for praise.

"Okay." Reuben was clearly amused as he stood. He let Elias pull him to the dance floor, where all the bodies were. Elias really didn't know how to dance. He did his best, moving to the predictable beat of this unfamiliar song, copying what those around him did. Reuben moved with him, and even guided him. They danced together until Reuben was too tired to continue, but Elias felt nothing at all like the way Reuben looked. "Come on!" he said.

"I'm gonna go sit, I won't be far."

"Actually!" Elias clutched himself as he shouted. "Actually! I have to piss!"

Reuben rolled his eyes. "I'll take you to the bathroom, then. Come on."

He tried to lead Elias by the arm, but Elias hopped onto his back instead, and Reuben carried him the rest of the way. He let Elias in. "I'll guard the door for you," he said.

"Thank you!" Elias kissed him quickly and entered.

After he shut and locked the door, the bathroom seemed to transform into some alternate dimension. The loud music and noises that Elias had grown used to over the last few hours were drowned out by the walls so that they were a dim hum. Elias stumbled his way to the toilet and relieved himself, and went to the sink.

When he looked in the mirror, he saw himself for the first time since the night began. His eyes were _very_ dilated, and he was sweating up a storm. He was also smiling sort of manically. He made himself look neutral, and then frown, but he couldn't keep the expression—the smile came right back, as if God himself were dragging up the edges of his lips to his ears.

His happiness dissipated like smoke. He felt it fully: the walls caving in on him, and God's voice, louder than anything and sounding just like his father, saying _sinner_ or maybe _failure_ , crushing him until he was the dirt on the tile floor. He watched himself in the mirror as tears left him—which was bizarre enough, as he had been sad plenty of times but he never cried, not really, so why was he crying now?—but he was still grinning. The smile wouldn't leave him, and this made him cry harder.

Reuben was waiting on him outside. He couldn't go out like this, he had to do something. It was this fucking—drug, what was it called again? E, E, ex, ex-something. He couldn't even remember, how was he supposed to research it later if he couldn't remember? What if it was ruining him right now, rotting him from the inside, fucking up his brain forever? "Oh, no," he said aloud to his mirrored self. _That_ Elias's eyes were wide with terror. It felt fucking weird, to have this many emotions in him at once: euphoria, paranoia, terror. He had to get them out.

He wanted his knife, or something, anything. But he had quit that. He couldn't bleed the drug from his system, anyway, that wasn't how this worked. He went to the toilet instead, and got on his knees. He closed his eyes, focused on his rapid heartbeat, and stuck two fingers into his mouth. It didn't work the first time, so he tried it again, and again, until finally he was throwing it all up. He retched into the toilet water until it felt like he was empty inside, and then he spit. His mouth felt disgusting.

There were a few knocks at the door. "It's been a while," Reuben called from the other side. “Are you okay? People are getting antsy out here.”

Elias did his best to steady his breathing. Reuben tried the handle, and his voice came out slightly more panicked from his lack of answer. "Eli?"

"I'm fine!" Elias called back. "Just—give me one more minute."

He stood shakily, feeling exhausted more than anything else, not that he'd be able to go to sleep anytime soon. He went to the sink and gargled water to try and dissolve the taste of vomit, washed his hands thoroughly, and went to the door.

“You feeling okay?" Reuben asked him when he opened it.

Elias nodded. The smile was still there. "I feel great."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm ready to go home," Elias said. Reuben looked him over for a second, glanced to the bathroom, looked back to him. Someone rudely shoved their way past the two of them to get to the toilet. Reuben took his hand. "Yeah, okay," he said. "Let's go."


	17. Chapter 17

Around eleven PM, Elias was sitting at Reuben's desk, with Reuben's laptop in front of him. The first time he'd ever used it he'd needed guidance for how to move the cursor, and how the basics of a browser worked, but it really wasn't too hard to pick up on. He was a very slow typer though—he had to look at the keyboard and then back up to the screen after pressing every letter, to make sure it got there safely. Reuben had told him that if he had any questions, about literally anything, to simply type it into the search bar and hit enter. This had been very helpful to him thus far. Elias googled how to do everything: how to watch a video, how to play a video game, how to look up a phone number, a word, a business. He found different web pages, and a map application, which he used frequently to explore the area around him. The other day he had looked up ecstasy—he did finally remember the name of it eventually—and spent hours researching it: its effects on the brain, on the body, and what other drugs like it did.

At the moment, he was missing Reuben badly, and he didn't see himself getting to sleep anytime soon. He just wasn't tired. He'd woken up this morning feeling lethargic, with a headache that was trying to kill him. Elias was a morning person, generally, but Reuben had been sleeping peacefully beside him, and he saw no reason to pull himself up since he was feeling so bad. He slept all day, until he woke up to the sound of Reuben getting dressed to leave.

"Where are you going?" he'd asked from the bed, his voice thick and eyes low, even though he recognized what Reuben's work uniform looked like at this point.

"Work."

Elias made himself sit up. His stomach growled, but he ignored it. "I'm sorry," he said.

"Why're you sorry?" Reuben asked him.

"We didn't even get to say hi to each other, and you're leaving again."

"Ah," Reuben sat on the bed to tie his shoelaces. He wore white sneakers, dirty and torn in some places. "Well. I said hi to you. But you were asleep."

"That's not fair." He did remember this happening, very vaguely. He hadn't been sleeping. He always woke up when Reuben returned to him in the morning, even if he never actually opened his eyes. Reuben always showered then got into bed with him, wrapped himself around him, said soft things like, "Good morning" or "I missed you" or "it's just me, it's only me." Sometimes, if Elias was present enough for it, they would kiss. Elias didn't remember doing that this morning, though. He did remember Reuben kissing his shoulder chastely, and whispering, "It's okay; you're okay," unaware that Elias was conscious.

"Hi," he said now, and leaned in to kiss Elias. Elias leaned fully into him, and they got lost in each other briefly. "Feel better?" he asked, pulling away.

"Yes," Elias said.

"I have to go."

"I know. I'll see you."

"I love you." Reuben reminded him of this often, more than was probably necessary. He said it when Elias kissed him, when he danced with him, when he buttoned his shirt or brushed his teeth. Elias realized he had never actually said the words back to Reuben, not even once. "I love you, too," he said now. It was the truth, anyway. Reuben smiled.

Now, after having eaten, Elias felt more awake than ever. And he wanted to see Reuben, since they hadn't gotten to see much of each other that day. So he looked up the address to the store Reuben worked for, and then he looked up " _how to get a ride somewhere_ " and found the number of a taxi company. He called the number, and received a gruff voice on the other end, which promised a ride to be there in less than ten minutes. It all felt like it was happening fast: he dressed, he stepped outside to wait—he made sure to lock the door behind him—and when the taxi cab arrived, he let himself in and felt strangely calm about it. It was the first real independent action he had taken since he left his family. As he rode in the backseat, he thought, _I did this, all by myself_.

Reuben worked at a jiffy store not unlike the one they had dipped into on the day that they had met. Only Reuben's store was a larger one, and less dingy looking. There were certainly no boarded up windows. Reuben was facing away from the door when Elias walked in. He was leaning on the doorframe to the back office and listening to someone else talk from in there, someone Elias couldn't see. Upon Elias's entrance, the glass door dinged the bell, and drew Reuben's attention. His eyes went a little comically wide. "Eli?"

"Yes." He'd said this kind of breathlessly. He did feel breathless all of a sudden, like he'd ran the whole way here instead of finding a ride. He forced himself to step up to the counter. Reuben hopped over it to hug him, and then kept an arm around his shoulder, possessive. "I didn't want to stay home."

"How did you get here?"

"I called a cab." Elias did avoid mentioning the obvious: that he used Reuben's money to get here. It wasn't that expensive of a ride anyway, he thought.

"Goddamn." Reuben squeezed him a little tighter. "Can I kiss you?" he asked quietly.

Elias glanced around. He couldn't see a single soul except for an older woman looking at a shelf of cookies across the store. He knew there must be someone in the back room, but they clearly weren't watching them or paying any attention. So he nodded, and Reuben brought his thumb to his chin and tilted his head up just enough for their lips to touch. Every time they kissed Elias could feel the magic of it, deep in his heart, sometimes in other places, but kissing Reuben outside of the confines of the apartment's walls was always something that would make his heart race. Reuben's tongue opened up his lips and there, in the store, to kiss was to dance. Elias could go forever, but they pulled apart when the entrance’s bell went off. Elias flushed deeply in embarrassment. The people coming in were only girls about their age. They eyed the two of them suspiciously, but kept walking. The woman who was looking at the cookies appeared miraculously behind Elias, spooking him. "Sorry, ma'am," he said to her, and moved aside.

"Give me just a second," Reuben told him. While he rang her up, Elias busied himself with looking at the various knick knacks on the counter. Keychains, candy, lottery tickets, postcards. One postcard had a dramatic cross on it, backlit by a sunset. Elias recognized the location, it was a building on the other side of town, closer to where the mall was located. A church, of course. Elias looked away.

After Reuben finished, he ducked his head into the back room. "Rich," he called.

"Reub," a voice called back. Elias recognized the voice as one of the guys from the night before, at Outlaws. He wouldn't have remembered his name if Reuben hadn't just said it.

"Watch the register for me."

"Why?"

"Eli's here."

The noise Richard made in reply let Elias know that he was high. Reuben glanced to him and they shared a look of mild amusement.

"Yeah, so come out here and watch the goddamn register."

"Fine, fine, don't twist your panties." Richard emerged tall as ever. He wasn't wearing eyeliner today. He saw Elias and grinned at him. "Elliot! Long time no see? I hope you don't feel too fucked up?"

"I'm fine," Elias said.

"Elias," Reuben corrected.

"That's a quitter's reply, Elijah. Being fucked up is the name of the game."

"Elias," Reuben said again. He pushed him. "Just watch the register, you fuck."

"Hey, don't shove me, bitch."

"We're going outside." Reuben's hand slithered its way into Elias's, their fingers interlocking. Reuben's hands were warm, so Elias knew that his own must be freezing. "Come on."

"Wait—how long do I have to be here?" Richard asked.

The girls who'd come in were approaching the register with chips and dip in their hands. They were eyeing Elias and Reuben, and their hands together.

"I don't know, dude. You'll be alright," Reuben said.

"Have fun!" one of the girls said, smiling. The paranoia that had been building in Elias dissolved—he hadn’t realized that he’d assumed their attention was a negative thing. He smiled back, shyly, and let Reuben wink at them.

Reuben led him through a back door to an area behind the store that was isolated from everything else. There was a tiny light above them that didn't do its job very well, two uncomfortable looking fold-up chairs, a small table, and an ashtray. Looking out, there was a dumpster, trees, a couple cars, and darkness. If Elias were alone, he might be scared. But he wasn't.

"Sorry about him," Reuben said.

"Nothing to be sorry for," Elias told him. He watched Reuben pull a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. He leaned against the wall, lit one. "You smoke?"

"Only at work. Don't ask to have one because I won't let you. I want to quit."

Elias stepped up to him. Reuben stood a little straighter against the wall, being pushed there. It was cold outside, and Elias's jacket felt stuffy. He wanted to take it off. He was staring into Reuben's eyes, watching the smoke leave his mouth. Reuben stared back. "So quit," he said.

"I started cigarettes at thirteen," Reuben said. "It's too late for me." He brought the cigarette to his lips. Elias watched the tip turn bright orange, then plucked it from him with his fingers. "Hey."

Elias stared at it. Cigarettes, of course, were banned in the Movement along with most everything else. He'd only ever seen Desmond smoking them. "What's it feel like?"

"Well, it's not ecstasy, for one. Seriously, give it back."

Elias gave it obediently. "Why can't I take a drag?"

"The last thing I want is your addiction to nicotine and tobacco to be my fault."

He scoffed. "You let me do a hard drug, though."

Reuben finished the cigarette and stubbed it out. He tossed it to the ashtray on the table. "That was different." He brought his arms up to wrap around Elias, to shield him from the cold.

"Oh yeah?"

"Yes! It was meant to be, you know, a fun experience, and safe, because I was watching over you. I wouldn't let you become addicted to that stuff."

"You wouldn't let me?"

Reuben squeezed him. "I wouldn't let anything bad happen to you."

This wasn't the first time Reuben had said something like this. "That's a grand statement," Elias said weakly. He smiled, and tried to lighten the tension: "What if _you're_ the bad thing, mister influencer?"

"I would kill myself before I did anything to hurt you, even a little bit," Reuben told him seriously.

"Reuben," Elias said, and kissed him. He tasted like cigarette smoke, which was gross, if Elias was honest, but he didn't care. He smiled against Reuben, felt him smile back when Elias ground against him.

"Here?" Reuben whispered, even though they hadn't been whispering. Elias's hands had snaked his way into his shirt and he shivered, either from their coldness or his lust.

"Why not?" he asked.

"You make a great point."

They came together again, and Elias felt unusually unhinged. He felt so free, like he could do anything, be anyone, and Reuben was touching him in all the right places. Feeling Reuben get hard escalated his emotions so much so that he felt almost feral in his desire to get on his knees. He went for Reuben's pants button. “God, dude,” Reuben said in surprise.

"I want you so bad," Elias said quietly, quickly, need bubbling up in him. "I don't know what it is. I want to—I feel—" He shook his head, struggling to find the words. "Gay? I guess? And I want to feel it. I want to be me, and you to be you, and I want to suck your dick." He got it in his hands as he said the words. "Is that okay?"

"You are fascinating. You're going to drive me crazy. _Yes_ , it's okay." He humped into Elias's hand. "Be gay, then."

Elias's heart raced, but he did: he wrapped his mouth around Reuben until Reuben was coming into it, and he himself was coming on the concrete floor below them, and the night still felt so young. He swallowed, he'd made himself, and then he came up to kiss Reuben so that Reuben could tell him with his tongue in his mouth, " _You did great, you're so good, you're perfect._ "

"How long have we been gone?" Elias asked, later.

"Long enough for Richard to ask me for details when I get back."

"Will you give him them?"

"Not if you don't want me to."

Elias grinned, and flushed. "I want you to."

He wanted almost the whole world to know.

***

Reuben said that he didn't have enough money for Elias to take taxis everywhere, so Elias used his time to do extensive research on bus routes, because with his newfound freedom from his family, he wanted to visit Marshall again.

He made sure to dress up in something unlike anything he'd ever worn as the Elias his family knew before he went out in public. For this journey he wore a pair of dark jeans and a long coat to block out the cold—it was officially winter now. He still felt extremely conspicuous, getting on the bus, as if everyone was staring at him and they all knew he didn't belong there. He kept his eyes down, afraid to accidentally meet the eyes of someone he knew.

It took nearly two hours, and a couple of bus route switches, but he did finally make it to Marshall's home around noon. The house looked the same as it ever did. The small yard had become even more overgrown, but other than that it was the same. Elias stepped up to the door and knocked a few times. After a few moments, he heard Marshall on the other side. "Who's there?"

"It's Elias," he said meekly. Insecurity flooded him—was he wrong to show up unannounced? Should he have called? Were they on friendly enough terms for a visit such as this? But the door opened before he could flee, or panic, and Marshall greeted him warmly and invited him in.

"I wasn't expecting you."

"I'm sorry."

"No, no need." He reached for the remote to turn the volume down on the television; he'd been watching some sitcom Elias had never seen. The TV was outdated: small, thick, with a protruding screen. Marshall sat on the couch, and Elias followed suit by sitting in the armchair, after he shed his jacket. "I'm glad to see you're doing okay," Marshall continued. "I know you must be dealing with something rather serious, in your personal life. My ears are still open, you know, if you want to talk about that. Care for some tea?"

"No, thank you." Elias hummed. He hadn't actually thought about what he wanted to discuss with Marshall—but why not his life? There was no longer an immediate danger looming over his shoulder, scaring him into silence. And he was safe here, he knew he was. "Okay," he said. "I don't know how to talk about it, though."

"Where to begin, you mean? How about the beginning?"

So Elias told him. It felt like narrating a children's storybook. _I was born on a farm. My family taught me about God, and how to serve him. I was taught how to milk a cow, and slaughter a pig, and harvest fruits and furs. I learned two languages, and I learned how to love others._

"Your childhood doesn't sound too bad," Marshall commented.

Elias shook his head. "It wasn't! I enjoyed my life growing up. But growing up ruined everything."

He told him about the expectations of his father, about his engagement to Lillian, and how that affected his psyche.

"I met Reuben when I was trying to kill myself." He was staring at the floor as if in a trance; he had been the entire time he spoke. It felt so strange to tell this story as if it was over. "He stopped me."

"I'm glad that he did."

Hearing so startled Elias. He looked to Marshall, then quickly away, feeling embarrassed. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to go on… Reuben's the only person I've ever told any of this."

"I rambled at you last time you were here, it's only fair you do the same this time." Marshall laughed. "Besides, I'm still curious. What happened then?"

"'Then'?" Elias echoed.

"You met Reuben, and then…?"

"Oh." Elias exhaled. He was still cold, despite the warmth of the house. He knew his nose must be pink. "I fell in love with him." The words felt heavy, but he'd never said anything more true in his life. He was proud to say so. "I think it was always leading to this. Me leaving my family, my religion—it was inevitable."

"Did you leave your religion?" Marshall asked skeptically.

Elias hesitated. He started—stopped. "It's hard," he said at last.

"Do you want to?"

"No," he said quietly.

"You know… Humans believe in many different things, so that we can feel love, and hope," Marshall told him. "Whatever gives you those values, Elias, believe in it. You're not hurting anyone."

"You don't understand." Elias was shaking his head. _My religion does hurt people. It traps people, brainwashes them, rapes them._ He wouldn't say this out loud, or anything like it—he wasn't sure that he could. Marshall seemed to be waiting for him to speak, but he stayed silent.

"I apologize if I've overstepped," Marshall said.

"It's fine," Elias replied dismissively.

"So, what is your plan now?"

"Huh?"

"Do you mean to hide forever?"

Elias shrugged. "I'm following Reuben."

"Following him where?"

"Wherever he wants to go. I would follow him to the end of the world."

Marshall wrapped his hand around the cup on the coffee table, and lifted it into the air as a toast. "Well, then here's to your grand adventure."


	18. Chapter 18

Part of assimilating Elias into society and civilization meant exposing him to mainstream media. There were loads of pop culture for him to be caught up on, things like Harry Potter and Star Wars and Disney movies and Mario games and eighties music and this and that—Reuben spent the entirety of one of his days off immersing him in these things, together on the couch with a blanket draped over them, sharing a joint or a drink or a kiss. They danced together to songs that were iconic to Reuben and the rest of the world, but that Elias was hearing for the first time. And after, when they were tired and laughing and dizzy, Elias said, grinning, "Let's go somewhere."

"Where?" Reuben was grinning just as wide. They spoke conspiratorially, in whispers, like they were being spied on.

"Anywhere. Somewhere high up. I want to—I want to see the sky—the city."

"You want to see the whole city?"

"The whole fucking thing." Elias felt on top of the world; he had seen so much, learned so much! Reuben took him by the hand and hauled him up from the floor. They stood close together on unsteady feet, their hands clutched between them. Elias looked up at him with loving eyes: this was his friend, his _lover_ , and his alone.

"I have just the place," Reuben said.

***

The drive wasn't a very long one, but it did involve getting on the highway, which Elias most certainly had never been on before. He found it amazingly fascinating, though objectively it was boring: long streets walled by woodland, fast cars going in the night, the moon static above them. Reuben took him up a mound outside of town that was big, closer to being a mountain than a hill. He parked the car along the side of the road once they'd reached high enough, and they got out together.

"Reuben," Elias marveled as he exited the car. They were on an overlook that exposed the town's skyline. It was nothing terribly impressive—it wasn't a large city, with towering skyscrapers and nightlife—but it was beautiful all the same. He couldn't stop staring. Somewhere below him was his farm, his home, his church, and his family. "I…"

"I used to come up here with Gemma in her pickup, before I got my car. We'd do homework together—it was back when I was, uh, in school. Anyway." Reuben sat on the hood of the car. "Come sit with me."

Elias came to cuddle close to him. He was looking out still. "It's—" He didn't quite know how to finish.

"Beautiful?"

"Quiet."

"Oh." Reuben brought his knees up. "Yeah, I guess it is."

Elias closed his eyes, leaned on Reuben's shoulder, and tried to focus on what he could hear. Very distantly he could hear cars, sure, but closer, there was nothing; just the wind in the grass, in the leaves. "If I focus," he said, "do you think I could hear your thoughts?"

"You can try."

He pretended to focus for a moment, brows pinched. "You're thinking about me."

"That's cheating. Of course I am."

Elias smiled, his eyes still closed. "And you're thinking about—" He exhaled. "Us?" In the silence following, he opened his eyes to see Reuben gazing back at him, dark eyes reflective in the starlight.

"What about us?" he prompted.

"I don't know," Elias said.

"Talk to me."

"I just—" His high had well worn off by now. The cold seemed like less of a passive, natural presence than an active force pushing him into Reuben's arms, nearly into his lap. "I want to stay with you."

"Then stay with me, dude."

"Of course I will. I don't know. I'm just scared."

"You think your dad can find you?"

Even the words sent a chill through him. He shook his head. "No. I don't know. It's just… this doesn't feel real yet. It feels like—an interlude. Or something."

Reuben wrapped both arms around Elias, pulling him further into his lap so that he straddled him. "What can I do to make it feel more real for you?"

"I want to be a person," Elias said, faster than even he'd thought he would.

"What?"

"Like… I want to have a—an ID, and a job, and maybe go to school? And I want to have, you know, friends, and I want to be able to go outside without fear. And I want to grow my hair out again." This last bit said with his hands going to his shaved head self-consciously.

"Granted," Reuben said. "Just give me a little more time. I need to find a good place. I have no idea where to move to."

"What about where your brother lives?" Reuben seemed surprised that Elias remembered he even had a brother; he had only mentioned him once. "Miami, right?"

"God knows I love you if I move to Florida for you."

Elias said, "I'm serious!"

"Okay! Maybe, then." Reuben gave him a kiss. "Just give me a month. Just one. Is that okay?"

Elias let his head drop, supported only by Reuben's chest. "Yes, fine," he said. "I just don't want to lose you. It feels like you're going to slip right through my fingers."

"You can't lose me," Reuben promised. He brought Elias's face back up. "I'm yours, always." He kissed him. Elias closed his eyes, and let himself fall into it.

Time passed, and they fell asleep there together on the mountainside. They laid in the backseat of Reuben's car until late in the night, whispering about nothing.

"What would you want to go to school for?" Reuben asked him.

"Huh?"

"Earlier. You said you wanted to go to school. What for?"

"Oh." Elias thought about it. He'd said it in the heat of his confession. Going to school seemed like something a normal nineteen year old would do, so he wanted to do it. "I'm good with animals. Maybe I could be a veterinarian."

Reuben let out a breath of laughter, and Elias moved with the movement. "I can see that, actually. You'd probably make a good vet."

"Really, you think so?"

"Sure."

Elias fell asleep still glowing in the warmth from that, what felt like a grand compliment. He dreamt of a wonderful future, unrealistic in typical dreamlike ways but still just within reach: him in scrubs, in some distant country or planet, treating the aches and pains of both dogs and aliens alike. Then the dream morphed so that instead of operating on a dog, he was operating on his father, who had fallen sick. No matter what shot or pill Elias tried, his father wasn't getting any better.

"My son," his father said to him, his voice just as vivid as if they had spoken hours ago. "Why can't you help me? Why have you betrayed me?"

"I'm sorry," Elias said desperately, like they'd been painfully having this discussion for hours already. He was on the verge of tears, fumbling with the various tools in his office. "I'm so sorry, Father, I'm trying—"

"You've disgraced me. I hate you." Aaron rose from the operating table menacingly, almost comically slow. "I hate you," he said again. "You are not my son."

"I'll keep trying," Elias promised him. "It's not my fault!"

His father pulled from his hospital gown a gun, or what Elias first thought was a gun. He instead recognized it as one of the bolt guns they kept in the shed, and used for the livestock. Somehow this was worse, so much worse. "Please," he said.

His father trapped him to the wall, and raised the gun to his head. "The world is ending and you have no future. It is too late for your salvation." He pulled the trigger, and Elias's eyes snapped open in the night.

He was still in the car. His heart was racing; his breathing was ragged. He hadn't woken Reuben, who slept soundlessly beside him, unwittingly taking most of the blanket. He envied Reuben's ability to sleep whenever, despite his hellish sleep schedule.

Elias tried to focus on breathing. In, out. The dream wasn't real. What his father said in it wasn't real. It was the brainwashing talking—the world wasn't really going to end. He could be a veterinarian if he wanted to. He could! He could.

He could see in the space between the two front seats the pack of Reuben's American Spirits. He glanced to Reuben one more time, and then reached for the pack, and his lighter nearby to it.

Outside of the car, it was predictably cold, though Elias hadn't braced himself for it, so he grit his teeth hard and tried not to shiver. He walked to the mountain's edge. The town was quiet before him, with most of the lights turned off. He wondered what time it was.

With trembling hands, he pulled out a single cigarette and lit it. He took a drag, coughed, and took one more. He could see how this could be addicting; it felt mindless to do this, an unthinking activity to use as an excuse to get away for a moment. It made him feel nothing, though. He wanted to feel something; he wanted the anxiety that his nightmare had set in him to be gone, and the cigarettes—he'd went ahead and smoked another, after the first—were doing nothing. He pulled the stick away from his mouth to admire it: the ash, the smoke, the orange glow.

He held out his arm to examine. He wasn't wearing any sleeves in the moment, and his arm hair stood from the cold. He'd had on a jacket earlier, but it was in the car now, left behind in his haste to leave the vehicle. His scars faced him, messy and mostly healed by now. He glanced at the cigarette again, and brought it all at once to meet with his skin.

It snuffed out immediately, burning his arm with it. He cried out and cut himself off quickly, not wanting to wake Reuben. He cursed to himself quietly, repeatedly, " _Fuck, fuck_ ," until he couldn't take it anymore and released. The wound it left behind was small but stinging powerfully. He focused on the pain. It wasn't hard to do so. It got him what he wanted: it preoccupied him.

He crawled back into the car without bothering to be stealthy, wanting Reuben to wake, to comfort him with gentle words. Reuben didn't wake, but he did respond to Elias's cuddles with his warm embrace, making him feel loved all the same.


	19. Chapter 19

The first time Elias went to Isaac's house was a Saturday night, for a party. The home was fairly large and on a significant plot of land, with a beautiful interior and upscale furniture. It was so much different than Reuben's apartment, with its wheat colored walls and hand-me-down furnishings, or even Elias's farmhouse, which, while bigger and on much bigger land, was generations old by the time Elias had grown up in it, and was furnished with similarly aged things. He could see why Holly generally had no problem leaving her own apartment to crash here.

"His parents are like, surgeons or something, and they pay for this," Reuben explained to him upon walking up the driveway. Elias could hear music inside, and the lawn was littered with vehicles, Reuben's car now one of them. "He claims not to be rich, but just because you don't act rich doesn't mean you're not."

"It's really nice," Elias said politely.

"And also—you'll probably be offered drugs tonight, but you don't have to do them. Don't feel pressured."

"I'm done with drugs." This was technically a lie, since weed was a drug, and Elias wasn't exceptionally opposed to trying other things, but he was scared of ecstasy ever since his bad trip.

Reuben rang the doorbell, then knocked obnoxiously until the door opened. Holly faced them, short as ever and already drunk. To be fair to her, it was pretty late, already eleven o'clock. Reuben and Elias had gotten caught up in each other beforehand.

"You're here!" she said loudly. The sound of the house had amplified now that the door had opened, and became louder when she ushered them in. "My God, what took you so long!"

"You don't have to yell, Holland, we're right here," Reuben said.

"Don't call me _Holland_."

"Where's the drinks?"

"Where do you think they are? Stupid idiot. God, Elias—you come dance with me, I want to brandish you."

Elias gave Reuben a look. Reuben kissed him to calm him down. "I'll make us mixed drinks. You can dance if you want."

"I don't know if I want," he said. The track changed, and the speakers placed strategically throughout the area began to play something else more upbeat and fast-paced. Holly squealed, and pulled him along.

It was quite crowded, especially in the open space in the living room, which seemed to be the dedicated dance floor. "Are these all your friends?" Elias asked as they began dancing—or rather, as _he_ swayed with his arms crossed nervously, feeling vulnerable without Reuben with him, and she moved wildly.

"Hell no," she replied. "I can count my friends on one hand! Okay, maybe two hands, but it's not this many! These are my friends, Reuben's friends—they don't always overlap—but mostly Isaac's friend's friends. Since my friends are his friends. So my friend's friends." Elias must have looked confused, so she clarified. "It's just a college party! Lots of people, lots of substances, you know. Someone's probably having sex somewhere. Don't you watch TV?"

He opened his mouth as if to answer, but Isaac came up from behind him and frightened him so much that he nearly shouted. "Hey guys—whoa! Didn't mean to scare you. I hope she's behaving." The way he looked at Holly let Elias know that he was the sober one, probably the only sober one here.

"I'm never behaving." She puffed her chest.

Isaac ignored her. "I don't think we ever met officially," he said. He held out his hand. "Nice to meet you, Elias."

"Yes, uh, you too." Elias shook it.

"I'm sorry that the first time you're seeing my house is like this. I have a grand party only like once every couple of months. And only with a designated clean up crew for after. It's a really nice place otherwise."

"It is really nice already.”

Reuben appeared then, holding two glasses. Elias sniffed his. "Rum and coke," Reuben said. "For old times." Elias remembered: it was the drink they shared the first time he'd been to Reuben's apartment, right after his suicide attempt. Since then Elias's alcohol palate had expanded: he'd had wine, whiskey, vodka, beer. Mostly wine—he loved the sleepy drunk feeling. He sipped at his glass, grateful to have something for his hands to be doing. "Hi, Isaac."

"How's it going?"

Holly spoke up. "I was describing to Ellis—E _li_ as here about what a college party is."

"What have you even had?" Reuben asked her.

"Just drinks. And." She held up her thumb and index finger in a pinching motion. "Tiny bit of—what was it? LSD or something? They're taking it in the back. Ha-ha."

"You're a mess."

"But I feel _alive_."

"I'm watching her," Isaac promised.

"Isaac doesn't drink or do anything at his own parties," Reuben explained to Elias. "It's a rule of his."

"You people are fucking up my house enough, and I don't want anybody calling the police."

"Cheers to that." Reuben held up his drink, and downed it.

"You should have just had a shot," Holly said.

"We'll get to that." He wrapped his arm around Elias's shoulder and leaned in to speak in his ear. "Come on, let's dance."

For hours they seemed to do so, drinking and talking and dancing. It was the first time that Reuben had actually gotten drunk faster than Elias did. He poured them both shots, and danced until he got sick of the music, and commandeered the bluetooth system. "You're going to love this," he said to Elias, to everyone in the world, and played a new song that Elias hadn't heard before, but everyone in the room knew it, and the energy of that swept Elias up and into it too. He was smiling, exhilarated.

Eventually, he felt like he was swaying. He was introduced to many people around him over the course of the night, but their names and faces all blended together: _Samantha, Darnell, Wren, Vivien, Courtland_ —his brain didn't hold onto any of them. "I'm gonna sit," he said to Reuben, who nodded. "I'm not far if you need me," he replied.

On the couch, he somehow felt even more dizzy, now that he was still. He set the drink he was working on down onto the coffee table, and closed his eyes. He listened to the music, the voices around him, both familiar and unfamiliar. He knew that people he'd met were here, Gemma and Richard and the rest, though he'd only seen them in passing so far. He considered his options for what to do next: he could try to find them, or he could go to the kitchen for some water, or maybe a snack, or he could go to the bathroom. He felt someone sit on the couch next to him, and opened his eyes. It was only Reuben, smiling down at him. "You okay?"

"Yeah." And he actually was—he didn't feel bad, or scared, or anxious. Just drunk, and a little exhausted from moving so much. He picked his glass up from the coffee table. He was slurring his words a little. "You were right to take control of the music. Everyone's having so much more fun."

"That's because nostalgia is an extremely strong tool."

"There's no nostalgia for me in the songs, though."

"I'm creating the memories for you now. Planting the seeds, so you can experience what we're feeling later."

Elias laughed, and drank. "Thank you," he said.

They chatted together on the couch like that for a while. Progressively Elias felt more and more off his head. Reuben eventually excused himself to go to the bathroom, and Elias nodded, because by that point he could hardly form words. _Something's wrong_.

He watched Reuben leave. He was lying backwards on the couch, completely relaxed into it. He tried to get up, to follow Reuben, wait outside the bathroom for him maybe, but he was so lethargic, so tired. He couldn't make his body move. He looked around the room for a familiar face, his eyes heavily lidded, and saw Gemma, talking to someone emphatically. She seemed a world away. He tried to call out to her, but he could only open his mouth.

"Are you okay?" Someone asked him, concern all over their face. Elias recognized the guy very vaguely, having met him earlier in the night, but he couldn't place a name. "Can you move?" Elias did manage to shake his head sluggishly. "Here, I'll help you up. Don't worry, you're safe. I'm Courtland."

Oh, Courtland. Elias remembered now. Courtland had kind blue eyes. He would be okay with him. Elias made no move to struggle against Courtland as he lifted him, not that he would have been able to put up very much fight in the first place. Courtland walked him around, but it was so hard to keep his eyes open, to look at his surroundings. "We'll go someplace a little quieter," Courtland said.

Eventually, he was laid down on a surface. A bed, maybe. He heard a door shut, and it did shut out a lot of the noise. "Are you conscious?"

Elias could make no noise. He nodded almost imperceptibly, his eyes still closed.

"Good. That's fine. Hey." Elias felt hands on his chest, lifting his shirt, skirting his midriff. He couldn't really form any thoughts on that. "Are you still awake?"

Elias was, but he was too lazy to nod. It took so much energy, so much thought.

"That's good. Sweet dreams."

Elias fell unconscious.

In his dream, he was being touched by Lillian. She was naked and above him, her red hair loose around him and tickling his chest. "You like it," she said. "You're just quiet, that’s okay. You like it." He couldn't speak or move in his dream, either; he was just a doll on a bed. "I love you, Elias. And I'm pregnant, just like Father wanted. Aren't you happy?"

She morphed then. She turned into Aaron, fully clothed, above him and with two hands around his neck. "I'll _kill you_ ," his father said viciously. "You're dead to me. You're dead to everyone else. You'll never wake up from this."

Elias couldn't struggle, or cry. He was only a doll.


	20. Chapter 20

He woke up with a massive headache. Reuben noticed his consciousness immediately and rushed to him with water, with his love. "You're awake, hi," he said quickly. He was caressing Elias's face, petting his hair. "Drink this, come on."

Elias could speak, but his voice was shot. "What—?"

"I almost killed him," Reuben said heatedly. "Courtland. I found him undressing you in the bedroom. I’d kicked the door in. Then I beat the shit out of him, I'm pretty sure I knocked his teeth out. And he… from what I saw, he didn't get far enough to do anything to you. He just undressed you. But it was clear what his intentions were."

"I don't remember." The last thing Elias remembered was Reuben leaving him to go to the bathroom, and not being able to call out to Gemma. He very vaguely remembered someone helping him up from the couch, but nothing beyond that. He drank the water in his hand.

"That's okay."

"What happened?"

"You were drugged," Reuben said shamefully, like it was his fault. "Someone must have slipped it into your drink. I'm so sorry, dude. I shouldn't have left you." Elias thought of setting his drink down on the coffee table, of closing his eyes. "Isaac says he's sorry too. And he hopes you're not afraid of his house now."

"I don't blame you or Isaac," Elias said. "It's hard to blame anyone when I don't remember anything. I wish I could have seen you beat the guy up, though." He gave a small smile.

"You're smiling, but I was scared, dude." Reuben looked away, his eyes down. "I had noticed you were gone when I got back from the bathroom so I did a loop around the house, asked around if anyone had seen you, and when no one had, I started to really panic. Finally some girl said she saw someone dragging you into that bedroom and that you looked unconscious. I went feral, I swear to God, Eli. I was beating on the door and yelling for you. I'd stopped the party at that point, making a scene like that. I kicked the door in and found you lying on the bed with nothing but your underwear on, and half pulled off, with him over top of you, kissing you, and you were completely unresponsive, I mean, you were out, and—I lost it." He got in the bed with Elias and cuddled close. Elias realized where they were now, and that was back home, in Reuben's bedroom. He wondered, dimly, how and when they got here. Reuben continued, "They had to pull me off of him. I just couldn't stop hitting him. I might have been tearing up. I ran to you, after, to check if you were okay and you weren't responding. I was drunk; I’d thought you might've been dead."

"Dude." Elias turned to wrap his limbs around Reuben, and Reuben embraced him back, so that they were cocooned in each other. "I'm sorry. I don't know what to say. Thank you for protecting me. It's my fault, I—I should have been more careful."

"Fuck that. It's not your fault. It's my fault, if anything, for not looking after you better, for taking you to that stupid party in the first place."

"Well, I don't see it that way."

"It's Courtland's fucking fault,” Reuben said, with venom. "I wish I killed him. What the fuck was he thinking? He's probably getting doted on right now by his mom or something, the poor boy who lost his head and made one mistake. He should be in fucking prison."

"I don't want to think about it," Elias said. "The night was fun before then. I remember you, dancing and talking and kissing me. That was fun."

Reuben was still visibly frustrated, but he acquiesced to Elias's blatant silent request and let the subject drop. "Kissing you is always fun," he said.

They kissed then, and only stopped when there was a knock at the door. Reuben pulled away. "Are you expecting someone?" Elias asked him.

"No," Reuben said. His brows were drawn in confusion. The knock came again, so they both rose to answer it. Reuben helped Elias up. He was still unsteady on his feet, and he still had the headache.

Reuben looked through the peephole in the front door. "Oh, it's your guy."

"My guy?"

He opened the door, and Marshall was standing there before them. He was smiling, though it looked a bit forced. “Good morning, boys. Elias.”

"Marshall?” Elias stepped forward, smiling despite his confusion. "Why are you here?"

"Just thought I'd pay you a visit," he said. He was speaking hurriedly. "May I come in?"

"Um." Elias glanced back to Reuben, who shrugged his answer and opened the door further. He told him, “Of course.”

Marshall stepped in and jerked Elias to the side by his arm, pulling him into a conspiratorial huddle. "I just want to share something with him," he said to Reuben when he predictably noticed and didn't like it. "Give me a moment."

"Eli?" Reuben asked.

"Sure, it's fine," Elias answered, though Marshall's hold did hurt a little. Reuben shut the door and retreated to let them whisper to each other.

"Listen," Marshall said to him. "Before—before—I wanted to say to you that I'm sorry."

"What?"

"It was me," he said. "It's my fault. I asked for just five minutes first, so that I may explain—"

"Marshall, what are you talking about?" Elias asked him.

"A man named Desmond came to me."

Elias's heart stopped. "What?" he asked after a moment.

"He threatened me. He cut me." He pulled down his ratty brown turtleneck sweater's collar to reveal a recent red line that spanned about two inches across his neck. “I knew the minute he came to my door asking around about you that he was no good, that he was who you were running from, but I profess I'm a terrible liar, Elias, and he could tell. You confided in me, you trusted me, and I let you down. Under the threat of my life,” he admitted, looking down in shame, “I told him everything I know.”

Every word sent Elias further and further into hopelessness.

"He'll be here soon," Marshall said.

"No," Elias said, so hatefully that Reuben was at his side in a second.

"What is it?" he asked. "What's wrong?"

"You're _lying_ , Marshall,” Elias accused, backing away from the man. “You have to be. _Please._ I don't believe you."

Marshall kept his eyes lowered, looking very pitiful. Elias had no pity to give—he felt nothing but hatred for him, and terror for himself.

"What _is it_?" Reuben demanded to know.

"You've killed me!" Elias shouted at his wretched piteousness, ignoring Reuben because Marshall deserved it, he hated him so much. "You've _killed me_!"

Then there was the unmistakable sound of a silenced gunshot. A hole in the door of the apartment; blood seeping from Marshall's stomach. Elias’s eyes went wide and he stepped backwards into Reuben, who was confused but alert: he watched the door creak open, looking at it hard.

Desmond appeared, of course, admiring his smoking gun. "Found you," he said, cruelly slow.

Marshall had turned to face him. He was clutching his wound with his hands, his eyes wide. "You shot me," he said.

"Yes."

"You told me I would not be hurt anymore."

"Then I will make this quick." Desmond held up his pistol again. Marshall raised his hand and moved as if to speak, as if to say _wait_ or _please_ , but Desmond pulled the trigger. Marshall crumpled to the floor with a hole in his forehead.

Horror was a balloon that had been filling in Elias and had just burst loudly. The hatred he’d felt for Marshall seconds ago was morphing quickly, obscenely into guilt, and Elias felt his spirit, swiftly and cleanly, break. He wanted to face Reuben, to see his expression, to tell him to run, but he was useless; he couldn’t move. Desmond stepped inside the room and closed the door behind him. “He was a sweet old man." Neither of them responded. This was already the most Elias had heard Desmond talk in years. "He offered me tea when I visited. He answered all my questions."

"Get out," Reuben said. It was the scariest Elias had ever heard him sound. His voice was uncompromising.

"Not without him." He gestured with his gun to Elias, and Reuben gathered Elias behind him as if to shield him. "Relax. I won't shoot him."

"You can't have him."

"You won't let me?" Desmond reached into a pocket in his coveralls and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. He pulled one out, lit it, and took a drag. "What if I told you he will come willingly?"

"He wouldn't."

"Elias," Desmond said, almost sang. It was eerie, to hear him so talkative—to sing, even! He must be ecstatic inside at winning his twisted game of hide and seek, completely beside himself.

Elias was shaking slightly. "I don't want to go," he said.

"But you will." The Brother smiled. "You know that I will kill him if you don't. That if you misbehave, I will do worse."

Elias could imagine what he meant: it wouldn't just be him, at home and undergoing whatever torture they deemed appropriate, but Reuben too, and all because of Elias. This would be his only chance to spare Reuben from an early death—because there was no way for the torture to end other than death.

"You're not considering this," Reuben said incredulously to him.

Two weeks. He had had two weeks of relentless, amazing freedom. He'd experienced more love than he'd ever thought possible. He'd explored facets of himself, of his life, that he'd never considered before. And there was a small pleasure, even if bitter, in knowing that he was right—all of it had been only an interlude after all. Here was Reuben, slipping through his fingers like water.

"You have to swear to me that you'll stay away from Reuben."

" _Elias_."

"Done," Desmond said easily. "We have no interest in senseless murder. The old man was just a means to an end."

The _we_ let Elias know that Desmond was still working under the orders of his father. Resigned to this, Elias stepped forward.

Reuben caught his arm. He was holding it with an iron grip, hard enough that Elias would have bruises later. "Don't do this," he said, his voice breaking. "Don't throw your life away."

"Reuben."

"What about us, huh? What about everything?"

“This was inevitable.” Elias’s voice was empty. He'd said the same words before, to Marshall, about leaving behind everything in the first place. He hadn't known then that his return, too, was inescapable.

"But—what they're going to do to you." It wasn't a question.

"I'll be okay."

Desmond shoved Elias towards the door, forcing Reuben to let him go. "Back to the homestead."

"Can I at least kiss you?" Reuben asked Elias.

Desmond's gun went straight to aim at his face, forcing him to back up a step. His voice was dark. "I'd sooner kill you."

"Don't come after me," Elias told him. "Please. Just live your life."

Reuben's eyes were watering. Part of him was still clearly incredulous; he was looking at Elias almost as if he were a stranger. “That's fucking cruel. Don’t say that. Don't ask me to do that.”

"I'm not asking."

Elias was led out of the apartment. He chanced one last glance over his shoulder to catch Reuben's eye, to share one last look, but Reuben's gaze was steady and hateful on Desmond's back. It stayed that way, even as the door shut between them.

The interlude was over.


	21. Chapter 21

“Quiet,” Brother Desmond said, when they approached an unfamiliar—to Elias—truck, though he hadn’t been going to say anything. Desmond turned abruptly to face him and pushed him bodily against the metal. He crushed Elias’s neck with his forearm, not totally restricting his airflow but still forcefully enough to strike fear into him. “Look at you.” Elias had no idea what he looked like now; he didn’t want to imagine it. He couldn’t help whatever expression he was making. “I cannot believe Father loves you, still.” Desmond released him hatefully.

Elias tried not to dramatically clutch at his neck upon release the way that he wanted to and focused instead on what Desmond had just said to him. “What?” His voice was helpless.

Desmond didn’t reply. He was staring Elias down, cruel and calculating. “I cannot wait to kill you,” he said.

The last thing Elias saw was his fist.

***

He returned to consciousness slowly. First, there were his thoughts, coming into existence out of nothingness. Then came the sensations: he was tired; he had a headache; his face hurt; he couldn’t move. Somehow he wasn't panicked though. He wasn't present enough yet to be.

"Eli."

His father's voice jump-started his emotional system. As trepidation seeped through him, he tried to open his eyes. His father was sat in front of him on a chair, watching him wake up, and as though Elias were lying down, he was seeing him sideways.

He was spoken to, and he knew he had to reply, to say something, but he couldn't force noise from his throat.

"Is it true?"

Elias, in his confusion—Why did he hurt so much? Why was he lying down, unable to move? Why did his father have to be here, have to see him like this?—involuntarily began to cry, and the humiliation of that too, of tears welling in front of his father, only brought more on. He tried to speak again. "What?" His voice cracked, sounding pathetic.

"Your abandonment, is it true?" his father asked. "You would leave behind your family, Elias, your life? For what reason?—Stop crying." The last words were said with no empathy, hard and demanding. Elias tried. "I haven't even begun to hurt you. I hate what you have become."

"Father." Elias felt like his dream self, from what felt like many nights ago but was only several, blubbering and desperate. He did his best to staunch his tears. He wished he could at least bring a hand up to wipe them from his face. His voice was small. "I'm confused—?"

"Then let me enlighten you." Aaron brought the chair he was sitting on closer, so that he could lean into Elias's space as he spoke. "You're home, Elias. Everyone has missed you. But nobody will welcome you yet.” He brought a hand up to Elias's hair and stroked it gently. "I'm going to get the information from you that I want, and then I'm going to punish you in the way that I see fit. It will be hard, son, but you won't learn otherwise. We have to find in you your repentance.”

Elias recognized where he was now: Desmond's torture room, underneath the farmhouse. "Dad—" he begged, almost involuntarily. The word was a child's sentiment, something he'd been forced to outgrow— _always Father, never Dad, never Daddy_ —but he used it in moments that he felt despairing. A lot of the time, when he was growing up, his father had been all he'd had to turn to. 

Immediately Aaron struck him. "You are selfish," he sneered, getting closer with every word. “Elias. You're looking at me as though I am the monster here, hiding under your bed springs and waiting for you in the darkness. My son, I am your savior. _You_ are the one who has forsaken God, isn’t that right? Isn’t it? _You_ are the one who deserted your friends and family, like they were never important to you? And all for a stranger.” He spat the last word as though it were itself a disgusting thing. He brought a hand up to clutch a handful of what little had grown of Elias’s hair, yanking harshly to keep his chin up. “You think of nothing and no one but yourself, do you understand me? That's been you all this time. And now you are being given a second chance—a third chance even, if you count that incident with leaving Sunday service. Not one other person is so lucky to get that many chances. But you are my son. You’re my Elias.” He let go of his hair. Elias's reflexes weren't fast enough to stop his head from hitting the table so hard. “I can't believe you're crying. I don't feel bad for you, Elias. I wish that I didn't have to punish you, I do, but you deserve it, and you know you do. What else am I supposed to do with you here? You don't have an answer for me, do you?"

Elias closed his eyes. He didn't want to be here.

"Do you?"

Everything his father said was true, he realized. He _was_ selfish. Regardless of the integrity of his religion, this was his family, it had always been his family and it was the only family he'd ever get. And this was his life. He had just abandoned everyone—never mind that it was for love. It was the wrong kind of love. Elias said, his voice low, "Yes."

"Yes what?"

"I deserve this."

"Very good." Aaron leaned back in his chair, and brought a leg up to cross. "Now," he said. "Let's begin."

"May I have some water?" It hurt his throat so much to speak.

"No." He began: "Tell me why you left."

Elias kept his eyes closed. "I don't know," he said listlessly.

"You don't know?"

"For my friend."

"Yes, I've heard of your friend."

Elias kept his mouth shut. He was not going to talk about Reuben, not with his father, or anyone.

"Tell me about your friend."

It was a direct order. Elias cowered under it. "I—I can't."

"You can and you will. Elias—"

"I won't." He kept his eyes closed, scrunching them tight. He wouldn't do this.

After about a minute of tense silence, Elias opened his eyes just barely. His father had his phone in his hands, and he brought it up to his ear. "Let's start early," he said to the receiver. "He doesn't want to cooperate without you."

"What are you doing?" Elias asked, his apprehension spiking.

"What is necessary."

Aaron rose from his chair, then went out of Elias's eyesight to the door. Elias struggled weakly in his binds as he heard footsteps descend the staircase. He was on his back and wrapped in nylon rope, thick and resistant to any of his force. His arms were bound tightly at his sides, hiding his scars in their orientation, and the rope constricted movement of his shoulders, body, legs, and ankles. Now that he had come to more, and had moved in this bind, he could feel just how tight the rope was wound around him. He couldn't look to see, but he felt he might be bleeding in a few places. He was wearing nothing but a small cloth, thrown over his groin.

At the door, he could hear Desmond's voice. "Has he confessed?"

"Not yet."

"Good," he said. "More for me to work with."

Desmond made his way over to him and knelt in front of him, so that they were face to face. "Hello."

Elias said nothing. He tried to stare back steadily. Desmond scared him, but he was an easier presence to deal with than his father. He could handle physical pain; he would, anyway.

"I spoke to you."

"Hello," Elias said back.

"Thank you." He brandished the knife he had had stashed on him, and twirled it in his hand. He brought it to Elias's cheek and dragged it across his skin, gently and then a quick strike, just enough to sting and get blood flowing. Elias winced.

"We're a family," Aaron said from beside him. He'd said it as though he were saying _the sky is blue_. "I can't wait until you are purified. I've missed you."

"Where is mother?"

His father frowned. "She can't save you, Eli."

"Where is she?"

"Only I can save you. And you will start listening to me. Do you understand me?"

"What is this?" Desmond interrupted. He had been dragging his knife lightly over the surface of various parts of Elias's skin, a constant threat. He used it to lift the cloth that covered him up, just a little, just enough to reveal—

"You hurt yourself?" his father asked him. His tone was full of distaste. Elias withered beneath his gaze, his body on fire with humiliation. He would say nothing; he had no defense of himself.

Desmond fingered his old self-inflicted wounds. Now that he had got to looking, he spotted the messier, harsher lines Elias had carved into both of his arms, and he began laughing. It started out as a casual laugh but it grew, feeding energy into itself, until it was a chaotic cackling. "You're sick!" Desmond said between breaths, relishing in the cruelness of his own words. "You really are a freak."

"Why would you do this?" Aaron gripped his arm hard. "You were trying to feel something? No, I know. You were punishing yourself." Elias couldn't say anything; he was trapped inside of his own body. His eyes followed between Aaron and Desmond as they spoke, but he couldn't counter their accusations—only take them.

"Very well, then," Aaron said. "At least there was some semblance of sanity in you still. Let me remind you what pain feels like. Brother, reopen his wounds."

Elias screamed when the knife sliced him. The pain was so sharp and stinging he fought not to curse. "Are you listening? Good," his father said. "Who is Reuben Hill?"

Of course he knows Reuben's full name. _He has all the information. He already knows everything. He just wants to hear me say it_. Elias was panting with the exertion of not reacting to the pain.

"I don't want to ask you again."

Desmond cut into him again, a long deep stroke. He moved slow this time, forcing Elias to feel every inch of it. Elias could feel the stickiness of his own blood on him, slicking Desmond's grip on his flesh. This was never-ending, and his father wasn't going to ask him again. He'd made that clear already.

"Please— _ah_ —please," Elias said. "Father, anything else. Ask me anything else."

"I'm asking you this."

"He's my friend," Elias said, helplessly.

"Tell me more."

"I met him outside of church," he went on. He couldn't take this. " _Ah_ —the day I left during Sunday service a few months ago. He invited me home with him."

"Why did you go?"

"What?"

"Why did you go with him?"

"He saved me from myself." He didn't want to admit fully what had happened that day, that he had tried to kill himself, because he was afraid that his father would simply not care. "And he was kind to me. He bought me a drink."

"And what did you two do together?"

Desmond had ceased. With his teeth gritted, Elias said, "Everything."

"Elias." His father inhaled deeply, and upon exhale Elias noticed that he was smoking. He opened his eyes and saw that it was a cigar. He'd never openly seen his father smoke in front of him before. "What are your sins with him?"

"What?" It was almost begging, the refusal under his tongue. "What do you mean?"

"I know you've committed many sins, and I know most if not all were with Reuben Hill," Aaron said. "I want you to share each one with me. Come clean. Think of this as confession."

"Confession is anonymous," Elias tried.

"Confession was never anonymous."

Elias breathed fast, trying to think of a way around this, but he couldn't see one. His legs were in so much pain. The smell of blood and cigar smoke permeated him. He let his eyes fall shut again. "You'll hate me," he said. "You'll never forgive me."

"You know I am a man of God," Aaron told him. "And, like him, there will always be an opportunity for forgiveness in my eyes. So long as you confess your sins, and change your ways, you can be forgiven."

_My sins._ He thought of his singular visit to confession, and what the person on the other side of the wall had said to him: _Attraction is not a sin_.

But his was. Of course it was. He'd known this from the beginning.

"We just had fun. We drank together," Elias said. "We—we did drugs together. We slept together. That's what you really wanted to know, right? _Yes_ , we slept together."

"You never bothered to tell me or your mother that you were deviant."

"Well." Similar words had been used in various sermons about the topic: _degenerate, perverted, corrupt_. "Here I am, Father, telling you. I—I am gay." This was his first time ever saying the words. He'd never thought that he'd be able to say them out loud, let alone to his father directly. For just a millisecond he was awash with pride at his bravery, at his ability to say it, but the moment passed when he saw the dark look in his father's eyes as he signaled to Desmond with a nod, and then felt the incredible pain erupt from him. Desmond had stabbed him and twisted the knife, right in his stomach. Elias couldn't help cursing at the explosion of pain.

"I'll take care of that," Aaron promised.


	22. Chapter 22

At some point, he'd passed out from the blood loss. When he woke again he was no longer naked, they had thrown a pair of dirty pajama pants on him. He was in an empty bedroom. He recognized it as what had been a guest bedroom. Where before there had been a dressed bed and drawer set, there was now nothing but the old hardwood floor. The closet's door was taken off, and the window was boarded shut so that no natural sunlight reached the room. Not that Elias was looking for more light—the ceiling's light had been tampered with so that the bulb was so bright it was nearly blinding to look directly into, and it washed the room out so much so that the white walls reflected back into Elias's eyes and gave him a headache. Elias stood weakly and stumbled his way over to the light switch, but of course it didn't work. And of course, when he tried the door, it didn't budge. He knocked on it curiously—maybe his father was on the other side? He knocked, and knocked, but no one came.

In the brightness, he tried to go back to sleep. He found a corner, curled up in it, and closed his eyes. Even on the back of his eyelids it felt like he could see how bright the room was. He considered praying. He didn't.

The quiet, in its own way, was relaxing, and it felt good to be in it instead of around anyone else. He didn't look forward to whatever was ahead of him: more questions, more wounds, more blood. Stares from his church members, judgement from Lillian. He wished that he could just stay here, even.

He'd dozed off in the silence despite the pain in his stomach, but the peace did not last long. After what felt like maybe ten minutes, the door was unlocked and creaked open. Desmond came inside and closed the door behind him. He was wearing sunglasses, proving that Elias wasn't crazy; the light was bright enough to be damaging. In Desmond's hands was some sort of device with a blinking light on it.

"Hello," he said.

"Hi," Elias replied.

"How are you feeling?"

Elias glared, wincing as he did so. No one had cleaned or wrapped his wounds, so they had bled until they staunched themselves, and they hurt, both the stomach wound and his legs. They fucking hurt. His own blood was dried all over the floor. "Fine."

"Sorry to hear it. Stand up."

Elias did, slowly and unsteadily. He was so weak. He needed water, food, something. "Brother Desmond." Desmond grunted. "May I have something to eat? Please?"

"No."

"When can I?"

Desmond didn't answer. He brought the device in his hand up and Elias felt something wrapped around his neck. It was fastened tight like a choker, and locked. Elias was too weak to struggle against it. "What is this?" he asked.

"Three days," Desmond said.

"What?"

"You can have something to eat in three days."

Elias knew he wasn't kidding, or lying. He knew there was no use in arguing or begging or crying. He sat back down in his bloody corner. "What about water?" he asked.

"Sure. I'll be back with a glass. I'd recommend to make it last."

When Desmond left, Elias had been afraid that he'd been lying about the water, and that he might really have to go three days with nothing at all—certainly he wouldn't survive—but Desmond did come back. The glass was one of the larger ones, and it even had ice in it. It was the most refreshing thing Elias had ever had in his life. He knew that he wouldn't get any more, but once he'd started drinking it, it was as if he didn't have any control over himself. He downed it, and it felt amazing, and then it was gone.

Afterward, he quickly found himself bored. He closed his eyes and covered them with his arms, but once his mind seemed to doze off again, the device that Desmond had put around his neck sent a shock through him. It surprised him so much that he shouted in fear and was panting for minutes afterward.

He tried to calm himself down.

They'd put a shock collar on him. What did this mean? He wasn't allowed to go to sleep, either? For how long—surely not the whole three days?

"Fuck," he said out loud, to the nothingness. "Fuck, fuck." He was hurting, and he was already so tired. He tried to stay awake, but he inevitably dozed again, and the shock brought him back. Miserable, he began to tear up.

"Father," he moaned. They probably had a camera in here somewhere. Maybe his father was watching. "I'm sorry. You're right. Please let me sleep." He was lying down on the wood. His dried blood was starting to smell. He said it again, "Please let me sleep."

There was no answer, of course. The feeling felt familiar.

***

Time was not something that Elias grasped anymore. He had no sense of when the sun would set or rise. He didn't know how quickly the hours were passing. All he knew was the glaring light, and the silence. In a fit of anguish, he'd taken the empty glass of water and threw it as hard as he could at the door so that it shattered against it. It had felt as good as it could feel, but he regretted it, because he was barefoot, and now there were glass shards on the floor that he would have to avoid.

He didn't pray. Deliberately, at least once every while, he spoke to his father instead. He apologized. He deprecated himself. He asked for forgiveness. And every time, at the end of it, he begged, " _Please let me sleep._ "

Never in his life had he been so thirsty. The hunger was painful, and it might be true that he'd never been this hungry before either, but that felt like something that was much easier to bear with. Especially with the promise that it wasn't forever. Three days didn't seem so long to go without food. But the thirst was killing him. He needed water—he'd bled so much, and had nothing to replenish him, nothing to aid his organs or his joints. At some point he'd stopped moving to save energy. The closet was the place he'd used to relieve himself, but after a certain point the effort became too much, and he'd simply pulled his pants aside and gone where he was laying.

The thirst was horrible, but on top of the sleep deprivation, Elias was no longer wanting to be alive. Over and over, he would drift off simply because he couldn't help it, and the shock would not only hurt him back into consciousness but it was abrupt every time, so it sent his heart racing. With no one around him to see, he cried, and cried.

All he could do with his time was think.

It was hard not to blame Reuben. If only Reuben had not stopped him from jumping all that time ago. He could be with God right now, or at the very least lost to the bottom of the river. He wouldn't be here, suffering, and Reuben wouldn't even miss him, because they never would have met. It didn't matter how his family would feel, because he would be dead, and they wouldn't be able to touch him. Everything would have turned out so much better.

Where was Reuben now? Elias was not so delusional as to think that Reuben wasn't missing him thoroughly. Maybe he was crying, too. Maybe he had called out of work, too full of grief to show up. Maybe Holly was comforting him, or Gemma, or Richard.

Stupid fucking Reuben. _If you had left me alone_ , Elias thought, _neither of us would be hurting_.

Oh, but he missed him. Elias did miss him.

***

Endless.

He'd been in this room, in this same spot, forever. There was no before. He remembered Desmond saying there would be an after, but surely it had been three days? Right? It had to have been. And no one had come for him.

Maybe they forgot he was in here. Or maybe his father changed his mind, and he was sentenced to a slow but sure death instead. Why should he get to live, anyway? He was fine with the final verdict, but he wished they had chosen a quicker method.

In the white light, sometimes, he could see things. He could see animals, like a squirrel or a rat, skitter across the floor. He didn't know where they came from. Once, with his eyes closed, he'd heard a voice. It was a woman's voice, and completely unfamiliar to him. She had said his name, smooth and melodic.

"It's too hard to speak," he told her weakly. His voice was completely shot. Barely audible. When he opened his eyes there was no one around, but when he closed them again, her voice was there, as close as if she was sitting directly in front of him.

"That's okay. You can think instead," she said. A promise: "I will hear you."

 _Who are you?_ he asked her.

"No one important."

_Why are you here?_

"To help you."

_Help me how?_

Elias felt a scalding touch to his neck, as if a pair of flaming hands had wrapped themselves around the device there. He kept his eyes closed, afraid of seeing nothing, of really being delusional. After a few moments, he felt his neck released from the device, and he couldn't help opening them in his surprise. The thing was on the floor, its light still blinking. The woman hadn't materialized, but he didn't have to close his eyes again to hear her speak. Her voice was now both all around him and inside his own head, as clear as spring water.

"Don't sleep yet," she told him.

"But I'm so tired," he made himself say aloud. His eyelids were drooping already, he could hardly think at all, let alone clearly.

She didn't say anything else. In fact, he felt cold, and he knew that she was gone. He knew that he should be asking questions, that he should be curious about whatever just happened, but sleep was pulling him under.

He didn't get to fall asleep, though. Just then, the door opened. Elias had trouble adjusting to the new brightness of the room, a weird reverse burning. He was hauled up by his arm—he assumed by Desmond—to his feet, and dragged out of the room.

His body put him into a strange slumber that he had no control over. He was vaguely aware of the things that were happening to him, but he was limp under their ministrations, his eyes closed and breathing steadily. In this state he was stripped and put into a tub of lukewarm water, and cleaned. His wounds were cleaned and wrapped. He was force-fed water and something else. He was redressed into what felt like his old clothes.

Lastly, he was put into his bed. He could tell because he recognized the feel of it, and the smell. Then his body was left alone and, finally, he really, truly slept.


	23. Chapter 23

Lillian was there when Elias awoke. She sat at his bedside, running her fingers through his hair, pity all over her face. He forced himself to open his eyes and see her clearly. She gasped audibly and came closer when she noticed this. "Elias," she said softly, putting her forehead to his. That's all she said.

He tried to think of the last time he saw her, and found that he couldn't even remember. Probably in church. It felt like a lifetime ago. He hadn't even missed her.

"Can you speak?" she asked him.

He'd changed since then. He was no longer the person he had been beside her in the pews. That person might be angry now. That person might resist her advances, might talk back to Desmond again, might—in his rage and despair—face more torture, or even death, so as not to be stuck here with her.

What a stupid person. Elias was too tired to be him anymore.

"Yes," he answered.

"You've been asleep for so long. And of course gone for even longer… I missed you so much." She kissed him on the lips. Whatever hope he'd been holding onto, he'd lost it then. "Here, drink some water." She reached for a glass of water that had been sitting on his nightstand and helped him to sit up and drink it. "How are you feeling?"

What was he supposed to say? "Good."

"You will tell me what happened, right?" she asked him. Her hair was different, he noticed. It was shorter, and tucked behind her ear. She was looking at him with adoring eyes, as though he could say anything right now and get away with it, though he knew that wasn't actually true.

"What do you know?"

"You ran away. Like, genuinely. I was so surprised. Why would you do that?"

"I don't know."

"Stop that," she said harshly, surprising him. "Yes, you do. I'm going to be your wife in three days. You didn't know that yet, they were going to tell you that our wedding was moved up, but it's important to me that you know. So you have to be honest with me."

He stared at her numbly. He did not care about her anymore, he realized, even as a friend. He didn't care what she thought. "I'm not in love with you," he told her.

An expression of confused fury passed through her eyes, but she didn't hold onto it. "So you were running from _me_?"

"Yes. I don't want to marry you. Or have a baby with you." He locked his gaze with hers. He needed her to know this. He said, "I'm gay. I had fallen in love with someone else. That's why I left."

She narrowed her eyes at him, visibly disgusted. "So then why are you back?"

"I belong here," he said.

"But you don't want to be here."

He was silent for a long time. "Life isn't about what I want," he said finally. "Don't worry. I'll marry you still. I don't have a choice."

She had begun tearing up. Hastily she wiped at her eyes and stood. "You are so cruel and selfish to me," she said. "How could you say something like that?"

The same words as his father. _You are selfish_. "I'm sorry."

She scoffed in disbelief, and left.

***

"Welcome home, son."

Elias was working out in the fields. He'd reverted to his usual routine, before Reuben, before everything: wake up early, get dressed, go outside to work. Mind the livestock, reap the crops, clean the tools. His father called to him while he was on his knees in the dirt, tending to their vegetables. Elias stood with his messy gloved hands limp at his side. They faced each other, standing a few feet apart. "Thank you, sir," Elias said.

"You've made it. You endured, and I am proud of you." Aaron exhaled. "We had to deprive you of food and water to induce purity. Change. You've been cleansed, now. Both God and I have forgiven you for your past. You have the ability to start over."

Elias wished his father would leave him be. The weather was sort of warm for wintertime, and the sky was clear, the area was quiet, and Elias wanted to be alone in it. He would not dare excuse himself. Aaron continued, "There are only a few new rules for you, Elias. From this day until your final day, you are to do as you're told. If your mother wants something, do it. If I call for you, you will come. If Lillian wants you, you will give yourself to her." He watched Elias carefully as if the mention of Lillian might send him into a tantrum, but in fact Elias felt nothing. "Speaking of her, I'm sure she's already told you of the wedding. There's nothing for you to worry about; I'm taking care of everything. Only the usual expectations are there: I need you to be present, to appear happy, and afterward, I need you to fuck her."

Elias said, "Yes, sir," and then paused, a question on his tongue. His father prompted, "What is it?"

"Just—" He looked to the sky. "What of the rapture? The baby won't be born in time…"

"At this time, your faith and obedience is more important to me than the future of your child," his father said. "I want to be there with you in the afterlife. So I need you to do as I say. I trust you have no more questions."

Elias drew his eyes back to his father. "No, sir."

Later that night, he reunited with his mother for the first time since he ran. He didn't know what he imagined their reunion might be like. He'd never been particularly close with his mother, but he did love her, and he knew he was loved in return. That's how it had always been. He faced her at the end of the day, after a shower, when she was reading a book by lamplight in the study. She looked up and, in a similar tone to the way Lillian had said it earlier, said his name.

"Mother," he responded in kind.

She rose from her chair and walked up to him, disbelief in her eyes. "You've come back to me."

"I missed you." Had he?

"I know everything," she told him. "Everything there is to know. I know about Reuben, and about your cleansing. You're all better now, I can see it. There's no nonsense in you. And look at you, all cleaned up." She brought a hand up to caress his face, smooth down his hair which had grown a little in a few weeks. She tucked it behind his ears. "My son. My only son. I love you."

Despite his uneasiness, he allowed himself to fall into her open arms. She welcomed him, embraced him, and he let himself become lost in her kind words: _My son. My baby. I love you_.

 _Then why didn't you help me?_ he wanted to say. His breathing was unsteady. "Will you forgive me?" he asked instead.

"Of course, honey," she said gently. "Shh, I forgive you. I know there is goodness in you. All is not lost."

 _It is_ , he thought. _Everything is lost._

"I love you," he promised her. "I'll become better."

"Shh," is all she said. "Shh."

***

A sense of deja vu lilted through him as he stood in his room, in front of his mirror, in his underwear. His body was humiliating to look at, and even worse to exist in. There were the remnants of his self-harm scars, the reopened wounds on his thighs, along with the bruises of being tied up, and the stab wound that had been forced to heal itself messily, leaving behind what he knew would become an ugly scar. On top of everything he was thinner now, pale and sickly looking. His eyes, once bright and almost youthful, now had dark circles and eye-bags.

Today was Elias's birthday. It was December 21st. It was kind of cloudy out, but sunlight still streamed in through his bedroom windows and washed the room with its familiar glow. To his mirrored self, he said aloud, "I am twenty years old."

Simple sentences made simple truths easier to swallow. So he continued: "I am an adult. My wedding is tomorrow."

In the mirror, he tried to smile. He could see a shadow of who he used to be there in it. He stopped smiling, then did it again, bigger this time. They say that simply smiling can make you happy. He glued the smile to his face as he got dressed and fixed his hair. He kept it as he exited the room to the party downstairs.

A birthday party in the Fellowship Movement wasn't anything special. For a special number, like twenty—the only other special numbers being fifteen, and fifty—everyone got together in the farmhouse and mingled for a few hours. There was no cake, or candles, or presents. Just general celebration, and a home cooked meal.

"There's the birthday boy!" This was Harry. "How are you holding up?"

"Good," Elias said.

"Hello," Lillian appeared beside him. She seemed docile, as though she'd forgotten their last conversation. "I like your hair."

Elias's hand went to his head. It wasn't long enough yet to style or anything, he'd only combed it back. "Thanks."

"Happy birthday."

"Right. Thank you."

"Hey." She stepped close to him and closed her eyes and breathed, as if preparing herself for something. Harry had excused himself and left them. Conversationally she said, "I've been thinking about what you said."

"Okay."

"About you being…" She shook her head. "Well, you know. I've done the research on that sort of thing before, even though I know we're not supposed to. It explains a lot about you. It makes me feel better, now that I know." She was staring into his eyes, waiting for some kind of reaction. He had none to give. She got up on her toes and kissed him. When she pulled back, she was still waiting. "Who you fell in love with," she said. "You should let him go."

She went on, "You're never going to see him again. Other than church, I mean, you're never going to leave this _land_ again. So you need to let him go. I know you're not interested in me. That's fine. But I'm what you— _all_ you have."

Elias was almost scared of how numb he felt. "Yes," he said simply.

"Tomorrow." She sighed. "I'll see you tomorrow."

He existed in the room for a couple of hours, receiving congratulations and answering questions like "Does it feel good to be back?" "Did God speak to you during purification?" "Are you looking forward to your wedding?" Lillian's parents expressed no disdain or disapproval towards him, surprisingly. "We know you're a nice young man," her mother said. "Especially now, since you've been cleansed."

Even James was around. When Elias saw him, their eyes met soon after, and James slinked his way over. "I'm very sorry about what happened," he said to him. He was looking down. He seemed genuinely remorseful. "I know there's tension between us, but I never meant for you to get hurt. I've read about the torture of it—it's in our books. The isolation, the sensory deprivation, the fasting. I never wished that on you."

"I deserved it," Elias said.

James pursed his lips. "Well," he said. "I admire your perseverance. And I'm glad it worked."

"Thank you."

"I want it to be known that Brother Desmond finding you had nothing to do with me."

Elias thought of being at the diner with Reuben, the phone ringing on the table. He said nothing.

"Since it didn't, our deal is still ongoing?"

"I haven't told anyone you're a pedophile, James."

James scoffed at the word. "Please," he said. "Regardless. Thank you."

Elias looked elsewhere. He hated James, hated his stupid face, and he wanted the conversation to be over. James mercifully took the hint and let him be. 

At an event like this, it was hard to go too long without being caught up in conversation. He only got a few moments of silence before his father appeared before him. "Follow me," he told him, and Elias had to obey.

Aaron led him away from the house to the relative quiet of the backyard. It was night out, but not late. The sun had only just set. Aaron said, "Are you well?"

"Yes."

"Listen to me," he said. "I have a task for you. I'm going to give you this," he brandished his phone, "and you're going to talk to Reuben Hill." Elias's eyes widened just barely, his heart doing something for the first time in days. Dropping. "You're going to hear his voice, and you're going to tell him you never want to see him again."

Elias accepted the phone when it was put into his hands. The number was already typed, all he had to do was press call. "Why—?"

"To save his life," Aaron said. "He needs to forget about you. I need you to be serious about this."

Elias stared at the phone's screen. Reuben would answer. He'd know to answer any foreign phone calls, because it could be Elias calling. Reuben would be pleased to hear from him—joyous, even—and Elias would have to shut him out, turn him away. This would be worse than kissing Lillian, worse than marrying her.

What choice did he have? He hit call and brought the receiver to his ear.

"Speaker," his father ordered, so he held it in front of him instead, and put it on speaker. It rang a few times, the sound loud between them, but Reuben did answer eventually. "Hello?"

Aaron hadn't left or stepped aside or backed away. He was right here, in front of Elias, watching for any sign of weakness, love, regret. Elias said, "Um. Are you free?"

" _Elias,_ " he said with vitality. "You called me… I've been thinking hard about what I can do for you without going to the police, and—"

"Stop," Elias said. "Reuben, I… I was serious about what I said before. Stay away from me."

"You know I can't."

"Yes, you can. Just stop with whatever ideas you’re having. I don't want you ever coming to see me." The words felt like a knife carving up his insides, but he did his best to sound sincere. "I don't ever want to see you again."

There was silence for a few moments. Elias didn't look at his father, too nervous to do so—was his devastation obvious? Had he done good enough? Reuben said, quietly, "I'm not a fucking idiot, dude."

Elias was caught off guard by the words. "What?"

"I know—well, I don't _know_ , but I can imagine what it's like for you there. I know someone is making you do this. I know you; I love you. Have you really forgotten?" It was strange, to hear those words from Reuben in front of his father. It was overwhelming; humiliating. "I'm going to fight for you."

Elias was at a complete loss. He looked to his father now, who was glaring at him. He knew what the consequence was if this phone call ended badly: he would be re-sent to the blinding room, re-purified, would be made to shed more blood, at the expense of Reuben's safety, something he was trying to protect in the first place. He had to do what he could.

"Fuck off," he said harshly to Reuben, pent-up rage making his voice sound annoyed, irritated. The use of the curse word was dangerous in front of his father, but he wanted to give Reuben a sense of realism; see, he was in a space where he could curse, and he was still saying these things. "I'm not in love with you anymore,” he continued. “I'm not. This is where I belong, okay, and I don't need to be saved by you or anyone—but God. So leave me alone. I don't miss you. I don't… want you around me."

The invisible string that had always existed between them had been pulled taut. Elias was barely holding himself together. But he was still on his feet, waiting for some sort of response from the receiver, since his father hadn't given him permission to hang up.

"I'm yours," Reuben said finally. "And you're mine."

"Things change—"

"You'll be okay," he said. "I promise, Elias. I'm going to make sure you come out of this okay."

Then Reuben hung up.

Elias and Aaron stood there together, after, Elias still holding the phone up, until a few of the younger kids came out from the back door and started playing outside. Aaron was clearly thinking hard about something. "You did fine," he said, his final verdict.

Elias let go of a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding.

"Go inside."


	24. Chapter 24

The wedding ceremony was, of course, going to take place in the church. The building was well-suited for it, with its large walls and grandiose displays. It was the largest gathering of followers that Elias had ever seen. Everyone he’d ever known attended.

There was no rehearsal, no practicing of vows, no bachelor’s party. Elias was taken aside by Diana and Grace early in the morning to their office and stripped, dressed, combed, sprayed. His suit was a nice one, but not new. It was freshly laundered but still had the weathered look of being passed down through generations. It was a sleek look: black suit, black tie, black shoes. Lillian, no doubt, would be in a dress of a traditional white. Possibly her mother's.

At the time of it, Elias didn’t feel present. He had this issue sometimes, and he knew it now: when he didn’t want to participate, his mind would just leave his body behind. That way it didn’t matter what happened to him; his head was somewhere else.

He stood at the end of the aisle, his father playing the role of the minister, and he waited for Lillian to walk daintily down it with her own father. Like a torch, she was passed from man to man.

She was certainly beautiful. There was no makeup on her but lip gloss, which she was savoring the chance to wear, but her hazel eyes popped and her hair had been styled. It had the style of a wedding dress from the fifties, not even reaching her ankles.

Words were said, orders were given. Elias and Lillian clasped hands before the crowd, and with each free hand they held out for God. This is when they were given their vows.

 _I, Elias Flood_.

He told himself to repeat the words with sincerity.

 _I promise to be true to you_.

He wouldn’t think of how he felt. What he felt didn’t matter, so he felt nothing.

 _I will love you and honor you_ _all the days of my life_.

He hoped there wouldn't be many.

A couple yeses later and a covenant was made. There was a kiss, which wasn’t as bad as Elias had feared it might be, in front of so many people, and then there was a movement of silence in which everyone in the room hushed and closed their eyes, including the bride and groom, and they waited. The holy spirit filled the room then, or supposedly did, and collectively they inhaled and opened their eyes when the feeling of it had passed. Everyone clapped except Elias.

That night, the entire church building was left alone to he and Lillian. Their honeymoon was going to be just the one night. Every marriage happened in the church, and this was always how it went after: the bride and groom consummate their binding before God himself.

Only candles were lit around the main hall. Moonlight streamed in through the windows, but other than that, it was just him on the stage that his father preached from, and Lillian, on top of him, kissing him.

Reuben was technically not all that far away, now. If he were braver, he might try to run for it. Unfortunately, he wasn’t brave anymore.

“Hey,” he said. Lillian always stopped when he spoke these days, because he spoke up so rarely. So she pulled back, curious. She was wearing a nightgown, and nothing else. Her lipgloss was gone.

“Yes?”

“What…” He licked his lips nervously. “What are we doing?”

“Being married,” she told him. She moved her hand to palm him through his shorts. "Don’t get all shy. You don’t have any other options right now."

“You would force me.”

She scoffed, which surprised him. “You would force yourself, Elias. Every bone in your body was made to please.”

She was right, and he hated that she was right. He would be obedient; he couldn’t help it.

She resumed kissing him there on the stage and spoke against his lips. “Tell me,” her voice was low and sultry, “what was it like for you?”

“What?”

“Being with a man?” She had opened his fly and started to work on him.

He was staring at her face. She had no interest in eye contact, though, and kept her gaze on her hands as she worked at him. “Better than this,” he told her.

“How?”

“What do you mean—how?”

“His hands are bigger than mine?” she asked. “His face is scruffier when he kisses you? His arms are stronger? Close your eyes, Elias.”

He obeyed her instinctively. “That’s.” He choked on his words. “That’s not me anymore. I don’t think about it.”

“If it’ll help you, there’s no harm.” Her voice was soothing now, as if she were speaking to a crying child. “You can think about him, if you want. That’s it, good. I can feel you getting hard.”

He shook his head. It hurt more than anything else. Thinking of Reuben, especially their intimate moments together, made his heart squeeze itself into a tiny ball, crushing him from the inside. At the same time, he couldn’t keep his body from reacting. “I don’t want to.”

“Stop it.” He heard her shift and adjust. The minuscule sounds seemed to reverberate against the walls of the empty church. Their own voices echoed back to them in the candlelight. “How many times do you have to be told? Especially when you’ve made it so clear that you’re aware already? Why do you still argue?”

She seated herself on him slowly. “You feel so good,” she praised. “You’re doing good. I lost you, but you’re back now. You’re mine.”

Elias shook his head. He would never be hers, not in his heart. Not even if he’d never met Reuben.

“I don’t mean to turn you off.” She started moving on him manipulatively. “You can think of him, whatever his name is. Though I suppose it is kind of sick to think of your man-lover in the house of God. I guess you’ve not changed so much after all. Or is that what gets you off? Yeah, is that it? Imagine it, then. You’re in church with him, and he’s making you feel so good—“

“Shut up,” he said sharply. He hated her because this was working, and she smiled at him, because she knew. She moved faster.

“Dear God,” she said. “Me and him, he and I. Under your watchful eye, till death do us part. Yes, Elias, _yes_.”

He came and was so glad it was over, though he didn’t know why. She had his father’s permission to get sex from him whenever she wanted, forever. She got herself off above him and panted on him after. They were both sweaty. He was thankful she’d kept her nightgown on.

“We have to go again,” she said against his chest. “I have to get pregnant.”

Elias wondered if, were he armed, he would murder her right now. He could slit her throat, or bash her brains in. Get the matter all over the church floor. Blood sacrifice, he'd say. It’d immediately be apparent the murderer was him, but it wouldn’t matter: Reuben would welcome him back with open arms, he'd understand, and they’d reinvent him again, and actually run away together this time. Elias smiled a little.

Lillian went on. “This is so weird. I can still _feel_ you inside. And I can feel you dripping from me. That’s hot to me. It’s really not hot to you?”

Elias remembered that Lillian was only as experienced with sex by the small amount of things they’d done together. He glanced down to meet her eyes looking up. He cleared his throat. “There won’t be a baby,” he reminded her. “The world is ending.”

“In our afterlife, the baby will be there.”

Elias said nothing.

She sat up. “I’m ready to go again. That was fun.”

Elias glanced to her belly. Horrible thoughts came to him—he could use a hammer, or a knife, or a saw even—but he shoved them away. “Do what you want,” he said.

So she did.

***

One week passed without incident. Lillian had all but moved in. It wasn’t like there wasn’t space, but it was hard to get used to seeing her toothbrush beside his in the bathroom, and having her clothes in his closet, and her shoes by the front door. At any given time she was nearby, and she slept with him every night, wanting sex every time. To her credit, she allowed him to be the lazy party. In fact, he thought she almost got off on the fact that he was unmotivated at best and actively resisting her at worst.

He didn’t look forward to evenings in with her, so he started staying later and later outside. He would find trivial things to do, like repainting blemishes in fencing, and cleaning the tools that wouldn't stay clean for an hour. He found out that he was now trusted enough to be outside alone, so he would sometimes be out late into the night, until eleven or even midnight. When he could really find nothing to do, he would do exactly as he was doing now, and just sit in the grass and look up. He knew Desmond was around somewhere, probably closer to the house, but he didn’t know about Elias’s nights out and Elias made sure to keep quiet as he slinked across the fields, so he was hidden.

There were always many sounds going on, and Elias was alert to every one of them. Every effect of bugs, animals, wind, leaves, grass. So when he heard the very obvious sound of a footstep, he was on immediate alert.

He stood and looked around. This far out, the house was a good distance, and the only things to hide in would be the tall grass or the forest behind. Elias spoke, “Who’s there?”

“Elias.”

He whipped around so fast he’d made himself dizzy. Reuben stood before him, emerging from the dark dense trees like a messiah, ready to catch him, his arms spread open. Elias didn’t think of anything at all—he was already in Reuben’s arms before he could form any coherent thought.

Reuben squeezed him so tight it did actually hurt his wounds, but he loved it. He loved every second of it. He’d already begun mourning when Reuben pulled away, only for the feeling to be shoved aside by euphoria when Reuben pulled him into a kiss instead. It was open-mouthed, hot, and so good Elias was shaking. Reuben held him up, his trembling was so bad. “Shh, it’s okay,” he hushed. “I’m here now. I’ve got you.”

The words soothed him. Elias was reminded of the mornings when Reuben would get home from work and climb into bed with comforting words like this.

“They hurt you?”

“I’m married.” Elias brandished the band on his finger. Reuben’s ring had been lost a long time ago, somewhere in Reuben’s apartment still. Elias missed it, though he was glad in a way that it wasn’t here. One less thing to feel guilty about harboring. It hurt him now to see Reuben and feel so powerfully, so intensely, after so long of learning to feel nothing. “She’s probably pregnant. Everything is a mess, Reuben, a mess.”

“Come with me, then.”

“No.” Elias stepped backwards, steeled himself. “It’s—this is my mess. I’m fixing the problems that I made.”

“We don’t have time for this,” Reuben said quite seriously. “Come with me now, we’ll figure out the rest.”

“I made an oath.” Elias gestured to his ring.

“Fuck your marriage.”

“I can’t go with you!” he shouted, then immediately quieted with a nervous glance to the house. He was far enough away, but better safe than sorry. It hit him, suddenly, how dangerous this situation was.

“Why not?”

“What are you even doing here?” he demanded to know. “Go away! I asked you to leave me alone.”

“Have they really fucked with you this much?” Reuben asked him, hands on his shoulders. “They got into your head?”

“It’s none of your business anymore.”

Reuben stood in stubborn silence. “I won’t leave without you.”

Elias took a step back.

Reuben opened his mouth to speak. It sounded as though he had a lump in his throat. “Eli,” he said slowly. “I can’t… _live_ … without you. Not anymore.”

“Figure it out,” Elias made himself say.

“Don’t do this to me.”

“Don’t come on my property again,” Elias said. “I miss you, Reuben, but we just—it wasn’t meant to be.”

“Are you breaking up with me then?” Reuben asked. “Genuinely, you are?”

“I’m married,” Elias said with his teeth grit. He stopped for a second, breathed. He then stepped forward and leaned up to kiss Reuben chastely on the lips. He lingered there. When they pulled apart, Elias was frowning. Reuben, too, looked miserable. “Thank you for saving me,” Elias said.

Reuben scoffed at the double meaning. Thank you for saving me from my own death all those months ago, and thank you for trying to save me now. “You’re fucking welcome,” he said cruelly.

Elias started backing away. “Go,” he said. “And if you come any closer to my house than you are right now, then you’ve signed your own death warrant.”

With that he turned around and beelined for the front door. Desmond was there in his coveralls, smoking a cigarette. Their eyes met, and Desmond sneered. Elias felt his face go hot and rushed inside before his transparency gave him away.


	25. Chapter 25

When Lillian learned she was pregnant, she'd kissed Elias enthusiastically. Snow was falling outside and she was always at his side thereafter: she snuggled with him on the couch, followed him around when he worked outside, sat closer than usual at church. Even though she fully knew she wouldn't get to have this baby, she went on and on about names. Something soft, like Noah, or maybe something strong like Walter? Oh, but what if it was a girl? They would simply hope it wouldn't be.

Elias wasn't sure whether or not Reuben was going to take him seriously, but apparently he did. He never saw Reuben after that night. He still went out every night, now to that same spot, just in case. He'd half-convinced himself that maybe their reunion never happened, but he could still feel Reuben on his lips, feel his arms around him. He wished he'd been unhinged enough to make love to Reuben again, just one more time, so he could have something to fantasize about and tide him over, but he knew that that was present on neither of their minds.

His father never learned of it. In fact, he paid attention to Elias a little less. He was preoccupied with his own thing. Elias wouldn't learn what it was until two weeks had passed, and Aaron stood before the church members and spoke candidly.

"We're nearing the end of December," he said. "I know a lot of you have burning questions for me about the end of the world. Will it end in fire? In ice? It's true that it will be catastrophe, but those in their right mind won't be there to see it. It's important to take agency in your relationship with God. It's for that reason that I'm proposing an act of bravery from all of us next Sunday.

"Desmond and I have been working hard on a concoction that will be completely painless," he went on. "Simply take one sip, and you will move onto the next life and live eternal there."

Confused silence from his audience. Horror dawned on Elias when he realized what his father was saying—they were meant to all kill themselves together, as one. Everyone looked around at each other nervously. _Are we going to do it?_ Elias was asking the same question with his eyes, too.

"Death is nothing to be afraid of," Aaron said. "We all know this. I hope if your faith has taught you anything, it's taught you that. I promise a painless one, rather than living to see the catastrophe the Earth will devolve into in only a few weeks' time. Study your passages—you've all seen the signs. Greed, corruption, climate change… the economy is only getting worse, as is the earth we've made it on. We've reached a tipping point. Does anyone hesitate?"

Someone spoke up, a woman. "Death can't be the answer," she said. "There has to be another way."

"The problem lies in viewing death as the end," Aaron explained. "We know it's not the end. It's only the beginning."

Someone else: "So you will drink too?"

"Of course."

Everyone murmured to each other. Lillian whispered in Elias's ear. "He's serious."

"I know," Elias said.

His father asked the question again. "Does anyone hesitate?"

There was no reply.

"Good. You have one week to get your affairs in order. I expect to see everyone together on Sunday. God be with you."

Followed by the chorus.


	26. Chapter 26

“Slaughter the animals.”

The order was blood red and permanent, and all over Elias's clothes. He was carrying out the task alongside a few other male members of the church, James included. One by one they popped the animals with the bolt gun, before slicing their throats. They dragged the corpses to the center of the field to burn later. The smell, already, was disgusting and gut-wrenching. Elias was thankful that blood never made him queasy.

What did make him uneasy was the newly settled tension that had descended over the entire community. Everyone was in the same boat now. This brought them closer than ever, but no one was really showing excitement. When the world ended, Elias thought everyone—himself included—would be happy to unite with God in Heaven. But everyone just seemed afraid.

Elias did his best to avoid thinking about it. There was nothing he could do, after all. He didn't bother with remembering Reuben's words that had refuted the end of the world happening, because it didn't matter. This was the perfect ending for him in its own way—he’d started out wanting to die. He was only being given what he wanted.

He and Lillian discussed what it might be like in hushed whispers at night, as they laid in bed together. She softly said, “The next life is coming,” and brought a hand to her stomach under the covers.

Elias was on his back, his eyes on the ceiling. He knew it so well; every dip, every shadow. His hands were absentmindedly on his own stomach, protecting the healing wound there. “What do you think it will feel like?”

“Father said it would be painless.”

“Do you think it’ll be instant?”

“I don’t know,” she said. She fidgeted; the question got to her. “I hope so. I don’t want to—linger here? I want us both to go instantly, together.”

“Us?”

“Me and the baby.” She brought a hand to his cheek and pulled to guide his eyes to her. “I’ve decided on William. For the name.”

“It’s not a boy.” Of course he had no way of knowing this; Elias only said it to upset her.

“Yes he is!” she said. “I can feel him. I don’t know how to explain it, I just know.”

“It’s the size of a walnut.”

“You’ll see,” she huffed. Silence settled over them then, until Lillian got bored, and she pulled his hand to her gown.

In the moment, he and the other men had just finished with their task. Elias shed his jumpsuit and got in the shower. Slowly, he succumbed to the thoughts that had been boiling beneath: _Am I going to kill myself? Am I going to watch everyone I’ve ever known here die?_ The entire situation didn’t feel real. The week had passed too quickly; he’d hardly done anything at all. There was no point to working anymore, so he'd stayed in the study and read books, talked to Lillian, talked to his mother. His mother seemed unconcerned with their mortality. In fact, she was more excited than anyone else. A perfect follower, the perfect wife—of course she’d follow Aaron into the grave.

Once out of the shower, he dressed for church alongside Lillian. Underneath his pants, he hid his pocket knife, for reasons unknown even to him. He couldn't imagine needing it, but he knew that he was on the edge of something big about to happen, and he felt safer having it with him.

The Father was already at the church with Desmond and the Mother, getting everything prepared. Olivia was going to drive them there when everyone was ready.

As an expression of community and standing together, the attire's theme was “ _whiteness, purity_.” Elias found it fitting. The color white represented precisely what Elias was feeling on the drive there: blank, dull, numb.

He didn't know what he was going to do. He wasn’t sure he was convinced he would have the bravery to kill himself. He assumed he would—he was back here after all, in his faith, and this is what his faith was asking of him. This is what his father was ordering him to do. The word that cut so deeply kept echoing inside of him, in Reuben's harsh voice: _cult_.

Walking into the building and seeing the contrast of everyone in white against the dark room they were in was startling. The church building was not a hospital or a school; the rooms were not white or brightly lit. The walls were different shades of red and brown wood and brick, lit by candle sconces. Against the deep brown backdrop of the stage and the dark red of the pews, the all-white clothing was clashing and induced anxiety rather than any sense of calm. In the minutes before service started, Elias mingled politely.

Most of these people had come to visit the farmhouse every single day since the oath was made. Elias knew how scared they were. Yet he couldn’t tell it from today’s interactions—everyone was polite enough, confident enough. No one was shaking or asking questions. Somehow, Elias found himself next to Lauren, the girl who had had her womanhood ceremony not that long ago. She was wearing what everyone else was: a loose white t-shirt, white pants, and white tennisshoes. "Hi, Elias," she said when she noticed him there. She was like him in that she wore her emotions on her face, and it was clear that she greeted him to be polite rather than because she liked him.

"Hi." He brought his hands together nervously. They would both be dead within the next two hours. He couldn't not think about that.

"Are you scared?"

"Of course."

"Figures you would be," she said. "I didn't think the purification had worked, either."

Either? Were people still talking about his purity? "It did," he argued. "I just don't really want to die—yet. Do you?"

"Have you not been listening?" Her eyes were intense on his, and weirdly blank. "Death is nothing to fear. As Father has said, over and over."

"Won't you miss this though?"

"This?"

He floundered for what he meant. He gestured to the sunlight peering in through the windows and lighting the floor. "The sun on your skin?" His eyes found her parents, and her gaze followed. "Seeing your family? Having a family yourself?" At this, he looked pointedly at her stomach, which was rounded and pregnant by now. He remembered her ceremony; the baby was his father's. Her hand went to it self-consciously, and he saw that he had gotten through to her.

"Heaven will have all I need. And he'll be with me in the next life." Elias didn't know what she meant by _he_ , so she clarified. "It's a boy."

He nodded, doubting it. "Lillian thinks the same."

"I do not _think_ it," she hissed at him. "I _know_ it."

"Would it be so bad if it was a girl?" he asked her.

"It would be the worst thing in the world," she replied. And then she walked away.

Lillian quickly took her place in the empty space beside him. She kissed his cheek and smiled. "I heard my name?"

Elias frowned. "She says her baby is a boy, too."

"That's amazing!"

"I guess."

"I look forward to meeting him." She pushed her arm through his and wrapped herself at his side. She was only saying these things to be polite; her eyes were traveling the room, never in one place for too long.

"What's on your mind?"

"What do you think is?" She looked up at him, almost with doe eyes. There was love there, he thought. "Dying. Being with you."

"Don't talk as though you love me."

"You were my friend first," she said firmly. When he looked away, she brought a hand up to keep their eyes on each other. "Before you met your man-lover, before we were ever even engaged. We were friends. I know you, Elias. And I love you." When he said nothing, she finally looked away. "It's okay if you feel differently. We'll still be together, after today."

"That's what you want."

"It is."

"I wasn't asking a question." Anger bubbled within him suddenly, out of somewhere so deep inside that he didn't know where or how it was arising now, but it was. He could feel it growing, and he couldn't stop it. "Lillian, that's what _you_ want. I don't want that."

Her brows came together. "But it doesn't matter."

"And _I'm_ selfish? Me?" Indignantly, he looked around the room: at his father getting the drink prepared onstage, at the denizens of the church finding their seats and their loved ones, at Jesus's picture on the wall, alongside his father's, and the Father before him. Peter Flood in all his glory. All at once he was releasing how ridiculous this was for him to be here at all—what was any other twenty year old boy doing on a Sunday? College work? Playing video games? Fucking? And he was here—

"Everyone be seated."

His father's voice commanded the room, and everyone sat, including Elias. Lillian was watching him carefully now. She looked as though she had more to say as well, but it was the Father's time to speak now, and she would never speak above him.

"I am so touched and proud of everyone who showed up here today," Aaron said from the podium. "I've had a head count done, and not only has nearly everyone in this religion of ours brought themselves and their families, but they've also brought their confidence. I can feel it in the room, heavy in the air, and confidence is key. We're only missing a small handful. Most of you know who they are. Nina and Alicia, and their mother, Ramona.

"Ramona, going on sixty-three, had the wisdom to come to me ahead of time. She told me honestly why she didn't plan to come today, and why she would be keeping her children home too. She gave me her reasons. I tried to reason with her, but she wouldn't have me. I don't think she realized the gravity of her situation. Death is coming for us all. Regardless of how she wants to, she is going to die."

Elias tried to remember these people. The names seemed familiar, but he couldn't put any faces to them. They must not have been that heavily involved in the church.

Aaron continued. "I had pity for her. She knew not what she was doing. So I had Brother Desmond bring her and her children today. They'll be joining us." He held up an arm to a nearby door. "Come in, Brother."

The door opened, and Brother Desmond came through it carrying bridal-style in his arms an unconscious old woman. He came up the steps to the stage and placed the woman on the floor of it with more care than Elias had ever seen him give anyone before. One by one, he brought in these women. His father kept calling her children _children_ , but Ramona was an old woman, and her children were fully grown. Desmond laid them out in a row, three unconscious bodies on the church stage. His father's audience was focused on him and him alone, as though the bodies were as inconsequential as a vase of flowers. Elias couldn't stop staring at them.

"Here's how this will go." Aaron cleared his throat. "Desmond and I will go around with the drink, and give everyone a glass. Don't drink until told to. Once everyone has their glass, we will say a final prayer, and all drink it at once. The process won't take very long, and I promise that it won't be painful. Parents, your children drink first." From the stage, his father's eyes found his. "Am I understood?"

Everyone nodded or spoke their affirmations. Elias didn't move. His father's look became hard, and reluctantly, Elias nodded as well.

The room was quiet as the two of them went around and passed out glasses of a dark red liquid. The glasses were very small, you could hold them with thumb and forefinger. Elias stared hard into his. The liquid looked like blood. He glanced up and met Lillian's eyes. She whispered his name. He made a small sound to let her know he'd heard her.

"I'm sorry that you couldn't love me in this life," she said, her voice so quiet it was almost imperceptible. It had an honest quality to it. "I'm so, so sorry."

"Mm."

"I hope that you can love me in the next. As a friend, if nothing else."

Her words were like kindling on the fire lit within him. He had lost his ability to empathize with her a long time ago. He had no pity for her. So far, in this _life_ , she had insulted him, manipulated him, and raped him—numerous times. On a volume level that rivaled hers, he said, "Fuck you."

She gasped, which attracted a few stray looks, so she shut up and stared hard into her glass, her face turning red. Elias didn't care. He kept his stare forward. His heart was racing at the thrill of cursing in the house of God. It was exhilarating; he wanted to do it again.

The process of getting everyone their drink took about half an hour. Parents were given the drinks to hold for the small children who couldn't be trusted not to drink it straightaway. Elias wondered how well the situation had been explained to these children. There were a handful of infants in the room, babies barely a few months old, and already they were going to die.

His father went on the stage again, said a few more words. Elias's grip was tight on his glass. _Am I going to do this?_

"Begin."

Around him, everyone drank. Parents gave it to their children before downing it themselves. Beside him, his mother and Lillian swallowed their glass in one gulp. Elias brought the cup to his lips. His hand was shaking, the blood-like color rippling the surface.

"Elias," came Lillian's choked voice. She was looking at him with begging eyes. They said, _please drink it, don't do this_. She didn't get to say anything else. She collapsed back in her seat, her head lolling. Her face was flushed and her mouth foamed a little. Everyone was inching out their last, choked words before also collapsing where they sat, some people standing only to fall fully on the floor.

Up on the stage, Desmond had taken the drink. He lay himself down by the family he'd brought in. Elias's father noticed him then.

Elias ran for it. He bolted from his chair and started for the door, his heart racing. The small glass fell to the floor and spilled red. He moved as fast as he could, but his father was faster. Arms wrapped around his neck and body and dragged him backward. Elias kicked and struggled but the hold was unyielding. "Fucking let me go!" he shouted.

"A _bastard_ ," his father spat. He used the momentum of their weights to bring them both to the floor. He adjusted so that he could raise a glass of the dark liquid to Elias's lips. "You're no son of mine."

Elias screamed in frustration and knocked the glass away, spilling more crimson over the wood. He slid a little lower so that his mouth could reach Aaron's hand and he bit him, hard. Aaron shouted and released him. Elias took the opportunity to run, but Aaron caught his ankle with his uninjured hand and tripped him.

They struggled, but Aaron was both bigger and stronger than Elias, and a purely physical battle wasn't one he was going to win. Aaron trapped him on his back on the floor and they stared hard at each other, both of them breathing heavy with exertion. "I hate you," Elias spat. His mouth felt thick with the venom of it. He wasn't going to do this. Everyone he'd ever known was dead in this room. He had nothing else to lose.

"Watch your mouth."

"You're fucking crazy."

Aaron raised a fist and hit him so hard that it dazed him. Something on his face was bleeding now, he could taste it. "You're going to die today,” Aaron said, “and you're not going to be forgiven twice. You've thrown eternal life away. For what purpose?"

Elias smiled and, involuntarily, laughed. "You are evil. Evil and delusional."

"Reuben Hill can't save you, Elias."

Hearing his name infuriated Elias into moving. The decision was sudden enough that it took Aaron by surprise, and Elias managed to flip them over in the following scuffle. He pressed down hard on Aaron’s throat. “ _Don't_ say his name.”

“Or what? You’ll kill me?” Aaron grinned up at him. The sight was unnerving; his father had never been one to smile wickedly.

Elias’s hold wavered, but he wasn’t backing down now. “Maybe,” he said.

“That’s adorable. Get off of me, Eli.”

Elias reached just under the leg of his pants, where his pocket knife waited for him patiently. He pulled it out and unsheathed it. Aaron was watching it.

“Is that for me?” He raised an eyebrow. “You wouldn’t really kill your family, would you?”

Elias’s hand was trembling. He’d made his decision. “Family?” he asked incredulously. “You said it yourself, _dad_. I’m no son of yours.”

He raised the knife. Once Aaron realized that he was serious, he was quick to struggle and escape. He ran to the stage, where the massive canteen of red waited. Elias watched him pour a drink into a glass from a distance. He decided to echo his father's words again. “Is that for me?”

Aaron stared hard at Elias, and then at the glass. His hair was messed up, and he had a wild glint to his eye. A hint of something deranged.

"I refuse to let you be the death of me." He brought the glass to his own lips.

“No!”

In a panic, Elias threw his knife. He was good at knife-throwing, and he was aiming for the glass, just to knock it out of his father's hands, but he missed and instead it lodged itself shallowly into Aaron’s stomach through his shirt. Elias got what he wanted though: Aaron dropped the glass and it shattered on the floor.

Quickly, Elias ran to the stage. Aaron was staring at his new wound in confusion. His hands danced around it, afraid to mess with the blood slowly pooling. “You stabbed me?” he said, when Elias was only two feet away.

Elias relished the sight of his father at a loss for words. He stepped forward and wrapped his hand around the hilt of the knife and yanked it out. Aaron grunted in pain, but the knife was dull and the wound really was shallow. Elias stayed wary, weapon in hand.

“In the house of God, you would spill my blood?”

“Look around you.” Elias gestured to the dozens of dead bodies around the room. His mother was among them, as well as Lillian. It was hard to register them as dead—he couldn’t think about that now. “They’re not bleeding, but their blood is on your hands, father.”

“Yet you’re bleeding.”

Elias glanced down at himself. His bloody nose must have leaked. His white clothes were ruined, his shirt most of all.

“What exactly do you think you’re going to do after this, Elias?” Aaron asked. “Huh? Tell me. Do you think you’re going to elope with your ex-lover? Live happily ever after?”

“If he’ll have me.”

Aaron rolled his eyes and laughed darkly. “No one will have you. Look at you.” His eyes were challenging. “You’re nothing.”

“I’ve learned recently that you’re a _liar_.” Elias stepped forward. “So I don’t believe you.” He raised the knife and drove it, with purpose, into his father’s chest. Aaron gasped sharply. Unthinking, Elias pulled it out immediately and stepped away.

Blood spurted, and Aaron went to his knees. He brought a hand up to stifle his wound and winced at the pain. “Son of a bitch.”

“That’s me,” Elias said, and stabbed him again. He had to bend down to reach him. Aaron brought his arms up and pulled. Elias lost his balance and fell into the puddle of blood that was pooling. “Hey—”

“God forgive me.” Aaron used his entire body to hold Elias down, and pried Elias’s mouth open. He used his hand as a cup for the drink. He was scooping up what had spilled on the floor. Elias kicked and struggled—he’d dropped his knife upon falling, it was somewhere nearby but he didn’t know where it was. He felt himself taste the drops of something thick and disgusting, and his heart rate soared in his fear. “No—!”

He managed to struggle enough to get loose from Aaron’s weakening hold. Elias was already feeling the effects: he was significantly dizzier, his mouth was dry, and his throat was tightening. “No, no.” It was getting hard to speak.

He turned to see Aaron smiling. With one hand Aaron clutched his bleeding flesh, and with the other he held a dirty glass filled with the drink. He must have grabbed a used one and refilled it. And he downed it in one go.

Seconds after, he collapsed. Another lifeless body.

Elias’s eyes had trouble focusing.

After a few stunned seconds, he stumbled his way to Aaron’s body and fumbled through his pockets, hoping for a phone, and he found one. It was an old flip phone Elias didn’t recognize, but it didn’t matter. He typed in the number he’d memorized so long ago with blurry vision and hit the green call button.

_Please, please_. Each ring lasted a lifetime. Distressingly, the call went to voicemail, and Elias typed in the number again with a sob building in his throat. He held the thing to his ear as he laid on the ground, the world swimming around him.

Finally, the ringing stopped and a voice answered. “Hello—?”

“Help me,” Elias said instantly. His voice was shot. He could taste the drink on his tongue still, metallic and strong.

“Elias?”

“I’m in church,” he rasped. Adrenaline had dulled the shock of his own environment, and still did to a degree, but he was realizing just how many dead bodies were around him. Dozens and dozens. Horror was thick in his throat. “Oh, God, please. Please come. I can’t—I can’t—”

“I’m coming,” Reuben said firmly. Elias could hear that he was moving quickly on the other end. “Are you okay? What’s happening? Can you breathe?”

Elias _was_ wheezing for his breaths, he realized. His throat was so tight, and he couldn’t move anything. But these might be his last words with Reuben—he couldn’t waste them. “I'm sorry about what I said before. I need you, please. I love you,” he said.

“I love you too,” Reuben replied without hesitating. “But don’t tell me that. You’re not dying. Don’t talk that way.”

“I am dying. Oh, God.” Elias could see it happening. He could see his breathing stop altogether, his heartbeats crawling to a flatline. Another body in the pile. Tears welled in him. His words slurred. “I don’t wanna die.”

“You’re not going to. Stay on the line with me, okay? I’m calling 911 with another phone. Do you hear me, Eli? Stay with me.”

“Oh, God, oh, God.” He couldn’t stop saying it. He didn’t know what he was expecting. God had never answered him before.

Reuben started speaking again to a 911 operator. “Yes, the church on… I don’t know what… as fast as possible… be there in two minutes…” It was hard to focus on the words. “Eli, you there?”

Elias had his eyes closed. He couldn’t keep them open anymore. He did his best to create noise, and made a small moan into the receiver. Reuben cursed.

Time slowed. Elias’s consciousness was vaguely there, but he could no longer move any part of his body or make any noise. In the distance—or maybe it was extremely close by—he heard a door slam open.

“Fucking hell.”

An hour or three seconds later, he heard Reuben’s voice right by his ear. “Elias? Can you hear me? Give me something.” Elias felt fingers pry open his eyes, a palm feeling for breaths—followed by a relieved sigh. They were weak, but he was breathing. He wished he could speak, to provide some level of comfort to Reuben, who embraced him, his face full of distress. “Please, don't do this to me. The ambulance is on the way, okay, the paramedics will make sure you’re okay, I just need you to stay awake for me. Elias. Please, please.” It almost felt more like Reuben was begging towards someone else.

Elias was gathered in his arms and pulled nearly onto his lap. Reuben leaned in and touched their foreheads together. He rocked Elias in his arms. “God…" he said pointedly. “If you’re listening… please just don’t take him from me. I’ll do anything. I’ll do anything. Elias.” His voice was tearful. He squeezed Elias tighter. “What have they done to you? Don’t leave me here alone.”

Then: more people, more sounds. Elias had hands all over him, then he was lifted. People talked to him and he said nothing back. He wished he could tell them that he wanted to be in Reuben’s arms again. He never wanted to be anywhere else.

Above everyone else’s voices, though, Reuben was steady by him. “I’m here,” he reminded him, just like always. “It’s just me. I’ve got you.”

Elias believed him.


	27. Chapter 27

Twenty-three years later, on the dawn of Elias's forty-third birthday, he was woken by the feeling of Reuben's heavy weight on his back. Even all these years later, Elias couldn't help waking up early in the morning.

His eyes opened to darkness, but he wasn't scared. He was in his bedroom, in the house that they bought together almost a decade ago, and he knew he was safe here. He shifted to sit up, causing Reuben to readjust himself in the blankets. Elias looked down at him with tired, lidded eyes. 

Reuben had aged. He'd started graying a while ago, but it looked kind of nice paired with the dark of his natural hair, and his facial hair, which he'd gotten into the fashion of keeping sometime in his mid-thirties. This paired with his physique made him look almost rugged. Elias would argue he was more in his prime now than he had been when they were young adults. He brushed the hair from Reuben's forehead, and leaned down to kiss him. Reuben hummed.

"Are you awake?" Elias whispered. He glanced to the digital clock on their nightstand, which read 6:45 AM.

Reuben hummed again.

"I'll make breakfast." He moved to get up, but Reuben wrapped his arm around his waist and trapped him. When Elias looked, his eyes were still closed, as though he were still sleeping. "You have to use your words," he said.

"Just stay in bed," Reuben mumbled. It was unintelligible, but Elias had had a long time to learn to understand him. Reuben's arm squeezed around him. "It's Sunday."

"It's more than just Sunday," Elias said. He saw Reuben peek a curious eye open, and then both of them widened. He was awake now, and he sat up too.

"My bad," he said. He crawled on his knees to drape himself over Elias's back and kissed his cheek. His facial hair scratched Elias pleasantly when he spoke against his skin. "Happy birthday."

"Thank you." Elias couldn't help smiling. "Are you going to get up?"

"You fucker, you know I'll do anything you want."

"Get up with me."

So they got up together.

After the incident when Elias was twenty, he'd never lost his love for Reuben, but he got accustomed to being alone. He liked to be in solitude. His morning routine was usually done by himself, as Reuben was asleep or busy, but he had him today. So they brushed their teeth together side by side, and got dressed, and Reuben helped Elias with breakfast. They sat together on the couch to eat, and turned on the TV to something mindless.

"What did you want to do today?" Reuben asked him.

"I like just being home." It wasn't a cop-out answer, either. It had taken Elias a long time to recover from his trauma, and a long time to get used to having a new home in a new state. But he'd finally reached a point where when he thought of _home_ , this house was what popped in his head rather than Aaron Flood's homestead.

Their house wasn't anything special. It wasn't grandiose like Isaac's had been, and it wasn't generations old like his old home had been. It was a simple one story home in a suburb of several others, spacious enough that they had a fenced in yard and a garage. The outside was entirely redecorated by Reuben and Lucy, who was his brother's wife, and Reuben's business partner. They'd painted it blue with white trim, and the interiors as well, giving them a subdued tan coloring.

"Are you sure? Dude, money is no object today." They weren't rich, but they could afford a good fun birthday.

"I'll tell you what I want." Elias bit the food from his fork and used it to gesture. "I want you. Your attention, I mean. All day."

Reuben grinned with his mouth full. "Done and done."

***

Just after the suicide event, after Elias had been taken to the hospital and treated, his story was everywhere. _The boy who survived the modern Jonestown_. That's what they called him in the papers, and on the news. Even in the hospital he'd been pressured by journalists and detectives and everyone else to go public with his story. A lot of money could be made, they said, if he wrote a book. Everyone was dying to know the story of the Fellowship Movement, from beginning to end, and he was the only one with the answers.

Elias remembered sitting in the hospital bed, barely conscious. Reuben was gone, probably getting food or something, and a surly woman was talking to him. She was with a few other people in similar clothing, and they were asking him questions, and showing him pictures. She showed him photos of Lillian, of his mother, of every member of the church lying unconscious in the building. She showed him pictures of the "murder scene," where his father was lying in his own blood.

"Elias," she said. "This is otherworldly. It has been a long time since something this sensationalist has happened in this country. I know you're awake. Just give me any answers at all."

She kept asking him questions after that, but he never answered any of them. Eventually, her and her group left him.

She was the first, but she wasn't the last one to pressure him. He was a celebrity now; everyone he met who caught his name had the same reaction: "No way, you're Elias Flood? That's so amazing that you're still alive. You should write a book, I know I would read it!" Talk show hosts reached out to him, desperate to interview him, but he turned them down.

Well, this wasn't strictly true. He did go on one show.

The two hosts were a woman and a man, both very charismatic and friendly. Elias had undergone hair and makeup on the verge of a panic attack. Reuben had been there to comfort him, but it wasn't enough.

On set, the hosts were kind to him, and they didn't stress him out, or force him to do anything. They asked for honest answers, and he gave them. It was during this interview that the general public, all watching along on their televisions at home, learned the juiciest facts about that fateful day. One, that he had almost been killed by his father specifically—everyone assumed he just hadn't had enough of the drink to die—and two, that his then-boyfriend Reuben Hill had been the one to find him, and save him.

After that, questions turned to his boyfriend, his sexuality, growing up with it, and dealing with it in such a strict religion. The woman host had said, "Elias, I know you've probably heard this a million times already, but you are so lucky. The fact that you're alive is a miracle, and all because of love? It's inspiring."

"Thank you," he'd said. "I, um, I appreciate it everyday, that I'm still here."

Then the man asked, "Do you think, if you'd already been dead when he arrived, that the whole thing would've become a bit of a Romeo and Juliet situation? Do you think Reuben would 'follow you into the dark,' as they say?"

Elias didn't know what it was; maybe he was especially sensitive that day, or maybe he had just had enough, but he didn't appreciate the question. There and then, he promised himself he would never do another interview again. He pursed his lips. "I hope not," he said finally, and an awkward silence fell between them.

He became troubled afterward, preoccupied with the image of Reuben mistaking his unresponsiveness for lifelessness, and killing himself. Because wouldn't that make him the same as his father in the end? Convincing someone to commit suicide for him? Reuben had had to comfort him, hug him, reassure him over and over that it didn't matter what he would've done, because it didn't happen.

"Would you kill yourself for me?" Elias asked him. "Please say no. Please tell me no."

"It doesn't matter." That's all Reuben ever said in reply to this question, his hands rubbing soothing circles on Elias's back. "Just don't think about it."

They raised enough money from the interview and from a crowdfunding campaign to move, so they left the state and moved to Reuben's brother Victor, to Florida. They lived with him for a while, while Elias went to school.

He'd been given legal documents for the first time in his life. He remembered the confusion among the FBI: "Who is this kid? How is there no record of his existence?" Immediately after getting them, he decided he wanted to go to school. The only upside to experiencing massive trauma was that everyone everywhere pitied you thereafter. He almost had the freedom to choose any school he wanted. He went for six years to become a veterinarian, and over time, he got recognized on the street less and less, and people never forgot about his church's mass suicide, but he didn't have to worry that at any given moment someone might be taking his picture.

While he went to school, Reuben became good friends with his brother's wife, Lucy. She was a fiery, short-tempered woman almost taller than Reuben herself, and she was very kind to Elias and no one else. She disliked everyone, especially Reuben, but after meeting Elias she decided that she loved _him_ , and she went to great lengths to make sure he was taken care of. It was because of this that Reuben liked her so much, and they became friends, and eventually got the grand idea to start a business together. They started Primer, their home renovation company.

This was the most stressful time for their relationship in their adult lives, when Elias was busy with school and Reuben was busy with his own business. They saw less and less of each other, until it had come to a head one day. Elias blamed Reuben, and told him so. It was just after they had bought the home they live in now, when everything was still being worked on and remodeled, and Elias had felt the relief of graduating paired with the stress of not having a loved one near.

The argument had felt like something out of a soap opera, with Elias playing the role of the cheated housewife: "You're gone all the time, you're never around anymore!"

And Reuben, playing the role of the well-meaning husband: "Because I'm working! You know, for us?"

And they argued, and Reuben slept on the couch for a few days, until the fourth night when Elias had a nightmare about Aaron that reminded him of where they were, and how they got there. Elias then went into the living room and climbed onto the couch with Reuben, who accepted him readily. Elias said, "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Reuben said. "You're right. I know we hardly see each other anymore. I'll fix it, I promise."

Elias had smiled and kissed him. "That's you," he had said. "My fix-it guy."

In the moment, they just finished eating breakfast together. Reuben did the dishes while Elias watched from his seat on the island counter. "I like the look of this."

"What, me doing the dishes?"

"Maybe."

Reuben flexed his arm for him, and Elias pretended to swoon. Reuben flicked water his way with his hand. "We should get a cake, at least?" he tried.

Elias shrugged. They had this conversation every year, that they should go out, celebrate, get a cake and candles, throw a party. But Elias wasn't used to doing anything special. "You can be my cake," he suggested.

Reuben finished the last dish and placed it in the drying rack. He turned to Elias and raised an eyebrow. "Yeah?"

"Is it too early?" It was something like eight AM by now, probably. Reuben stepped forward to stand between Elias's legs. Elias blushed at the way Reuben was looking at him; even after all this time, it still excited him.

"Too early for cake?" Reuben scoffed. "Never." He leaned in, and kissed him.

They melted into each other, as they always did. Elias moaned when the kiss deepened. They tasted the same, like eggs and coffee. Elias had never felt more safe in his life than he did in this haven, with Reuben's tongue on his, with Reuben's hands sliding up underneath his shorts. Elias spread his legs involuntarily, craving the touch.

"This used to scare me so much," he said, as Reuben readjusted and pulled the hem down just enough to touch him there. Elias let his head fall to his shoulder to gaze tenderly. His breath hitched when Reuben used his thumb.

"I know," Reuben replied with a soft voice. And he did—they had been over Elias's past anxieties and traumas hundreds of times by now, had poured their hearts out to each other on repeat for two decades, and it hadn't gotten old yet.

Reuben pulled him into another kiss as he stroked him. Elias was humping into his hand when he pulled away to ask, "Do you want me to fuck you?"

"Do you have to ask?" Elias said breathlessly.

Reuben whisked him from the counter and into his arms, both of them hard and pressing against each other. He asked, "Counter, couch, bed, or—ah, table, I guess?"

"Fuck, I don't care." He knew what of the bunch that Reuben would pick.

Predictably, Reuben took him into their bedroom and set him gently on his back on the mattress. Reuben always preferred to make love in here, with the door closed, where it felt sacrosanct. He was a huge romantic and had only grown to be more so; he liked candles, flower petals, a carefully curated playlist in the background.

Elias let himself relax as Reuben removed his shorts and underwear from him. "Shirt on or off?" Most of the time Elias preferred it on, feeling insecure, especially since he hadn't aged so well as Reuben and neither had his wounds, but this time he raised his arms and said, "Off," so Reuben pulled it off for him.

There were candles in every room but especially this one, and Reuben lit them quickly, the flames releasing a vanilla tinted scent. He hooked his phone up to bluetooth and put on his playlist.

"The works?" Elias was amused as he watched Reuben come back to him.

Reuben shrugged sheepishly. "You know I like to make you feel special. That's all I care about."

"Kiss me, then."

So Reuben did, hovering over Elias until he started pressing him to the bed, grinding against him fully clothed. He sat up and swiftly pulled his shirt off before rejoining their lips. They kissed passionately, and Reuben moved from Elias's lips to his jaw, and then his neck. Elias laughed because it tickled, so Reuben bit him gently.

He went for the lube and Elias closed his eyes as Reuben worked him open. Eventually: "I'm ready, Reuben."

There was no _You sure?_ , just, "Okay."

Reuben leaned down to peck him on the lips just once before aligning himself and pushing in. Gradually, inevitably, they got into the rhythm of it until Reuben was fucking him in earnest. After a while, when he was getting close, he bent down to bring his open mouth to Elias's. They weren't quite kissing, but their mouths were on each other as Reuben came.

This was Elias's favorite part. Hearing Reuben come undone over him, full bodies together. Feeling Reuben's warm body tense and release against him. This is what sent Elias over the edge, too, and he came without the use of hands all over his own stomach, until Reuben realized and used his hand to help him out. Elias twitched under his touch, overstimulated.

They were both breathing heavily. Reuben separated from him so that he could relax properly beside him, spent. "Thank you," Elias said, winded.

Reuben laughed. "You're very welcome. Hey." He propped his head up on his hand to look at Elias. "You look great like this."

"Completely naked and disheveled is a good look for me?"

"Always." He brought his hand to Elias's arm and trailed his fingers over his wrist. Elias hadn't hurt himself since he was twenty-four, but the old scars were still there, if faint. "I love every part of you."

"I know." Elias moved to mirror Reuben's position so that they could look at each other properly, equally. "You've told me before." He closed his eyes and sighed. "Tell me again."

"There will never be a part of you that I don't adore," Reuben went on. "I'll tell you this tomorrow, and I'll tell you this in another twenty years. I'll tell you whatever you need to hear, as many times as you need to hear it."

Elias kept his eyes closed, because his heart had swelled enough that he could feel the familiar burning in them. Over his life he had experienced so much hurt, and he was still hurting—how did he get lucky enough to have someone like Reuben to help him save himself from it?

"What are you thinking?" Reuben asked him.

"Nothing," Elias answered. He opened his eyes, thankful when no tears actually fell. "Just—I don't know how you stand me still. My baggage, and everything that came with it."

"Your past doesn't define who you are to me. There's no 'baggage.' I like treating you, and taking care of you, and loving you. I know this is going to be hard for you to believe," he said, "but I'm as happy to have you in my life as you are happy to have me."

Elias smiled meekly. "It's just troublesome, I know it is. There were so many complications—with my father, and my religion. And after, I was so traumatized and devastated. You remember."

"Yes, I do."

"It must be miserable to love me."

Reuben shook his head just slightly and brought his thumb up to wipe a tear that Elias didn't mean to let fall. "Not to me," he said. "Not if it's you."

Elias made himself smile. "Sorry to be so gloomy."

Reuben said, "It's your birthday, you can cry if you want to," which made him laugh.

For the rest of the day, they were reminiscent of the beginnings of their relationship together. They smoked weed, played music up loud, played video games together, and made love in many different ways, over and over again, until the sun set over the house and stars lit up the night sky.

"I like that we can see the sky from out here," Elias said. They were on their back patio, sitting on deck chairs and sipping red wine. Elias had changed to be in lounge pants and one of Reuben's old T-shirts, while Reuben had decided to just be shirtless in sweatpants. It was Florida anyway, he'd said, so it was warm outside, even though it was winter. Elias went on, "One thing I liked about my childhood home was that I could always see the moon and stars."

Reuben nodded in agreement. They were both looking up now.

Elias looked into the endless darkness and saw God. He didn't believe in the God he was raised to believe, but he'd never been disbelieving enough to really let the idea of him go. Why else could they possibly be here, the only smart and sentient creatures in a vast universe of nothing? If there was no one out there, then who had given him the gift of Reuben, and in the church on that vital day, who had allowed his soul to grip that last drop of life with trembling hands, in answer to Reuben's desperate prayer?

Reuben had no God, but Elias's God was a being of love and justice.

That had to mean something. To Elias, it meant everything. He closed his eyes to the darkness and said, "I'm glad I'm alive."

Just then the wind blew, and it felt like a reply.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well that's the end. This is my first completed novel ever, and it's not perfect but I'm proud of it. More writing coming soon to you. Maybe.
> 
> Don't forget to let me know how you're feeling! Ty for reading!


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